


Perhaps, Perhaps, Perhaps

by Wonderlandleighleigh



Series: Straight and Narrow Verse [3]
Category: A Little Marvel Movie Universe, A little Doctor Who, Chuck (TV), Gilmore Girls, Supernatural
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Crossover, Crossover Pairings, F/M, Gen, Ridiculousness, Romantic Comedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-15
Updated: 2014-01-31
Packaged: 2017-11-29 09:19:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 46,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/685331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wonderlandleighleigh/pseuds/Wonderlandleighleigh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bryce Larkin and Jo Harvelle are thrown into the worst mission ever, as they attempt to stage a successful wedding in the hopes of drawing out a terrorist. The problem? They kind of hate each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The alarm went off just after her eyes shot open and she reached out with a thin hand to hit the snooze button. A little too hard, apparently because she knocked it off the bedside table and it clattered to the floor.

She huffed and rolled over, pushing her blonde hair away from her eyes and letting the nightmare she'd been having drift away from her. If she was going to go to work, she'd need a clear head.

"No distractions, Harvelle," Casey always said. "You get distracted in the field you get dead."

There were some days Jo Harvelle wondered if she should very well be dead, but today wasn't one of them; she couldn't afford for it to be.

Shaking off the rest of her bad dream, she slid out of bed and headed for the bathroom for a quick shower. Quick not because she was running late, but because being early for a meeting with your NSA superiors wouldn't be a bad idea.

It was still a little surreal, even three years later, that she was working for the NSA, living in a nice little apartment in DC that she barely used because her new job took her anywhere and everywhere at the drop of a hat.

They'd come to her after the Apocalypse had been stopped. Of course they'd known it was going on. It was naive for any of them to think that just because the FBI was clueless, other agencies were as well.

She'd had nothing, then; no job, no home, and they had offered her a purpose.

"You don't have to live this life," Casey had told her. "I'm offering you a chance to start over. Serve your country. You're tough, and you're smart, and it's being wasted."

That had been insulting, that last part.

"Guys like the Winchesters, they're in too deep," Casey had explained. "Not only is their rap sheet the length of a football field, but they're technically dead. You...what do you have? A couple of misdemeanors? If that?"

It had been a hard choice. It meant leaving a lot of ghosts behind, and giving up on a lot of old ideas; coming to the realization that being a hunter didn't really bring her any closer to the father she barely remembered, and that her mother had been right to try and keep her out of that life.

Jo wished she could tell her that. But it was a little on the late side, considering the woman had died.

She wondered what her mother would think of her new job.

Ellen Harvelle would have probably hated it, and told her that "just cause it ain't hunting, that don't mean it's not dangerous."

Which it was.

Dean had been completely, totally right in his summation of the human race: "Demons I get. People are crazy." And few were crazier than terrorists.

But she had come to count those few in the "crazier than a terrorist" category as colleagues, and acquaintances. Because, she figured out, that most of the people who resided in said category worked for National Security and Central Intelligence, and if they didn't do that, they were probably hunters.

"You never really get out of the life," Sam had once said to her, before he died. "You can hide from it for a little bit, but you're never really out. It'll always be there, waiting to swallow you up. Just cause it can."

Jo got dressed, grabbed her bag and headed for her car.

*****

Bryce Larkin was supposed to be dead.

It was something that people had been saying to him for a number of years, ever since that ugly business with Fulcrum and the Ring, and the Intersect and all of that other crazy crap that had pulled his college roommate from the doldrums of the Burbank Buy More into the spy life.

Bryce should have been dead. He couldn't remember how many times he'd been shot, but it was a lot, and he was still alive.

The last time he'd seen the aforementioned college roommate the man had dubbed him "Dead!Bryce.”

Leave it to Chuck Bartowski to be an asshole and yet totally endearing at the same time.

He supposed after everything that had happened Bryce deserved a whole lot worse than a little ribbing, and he was grateful that Chuck was still willing to be his friend, even though he didn't completely trust him, and probably never would again.

Now, Bryce was sitting in the waiting room outside General Beckman's office, awaiting his next mission. Across from him sat a petite, pretty blonde, and he wondered if they had conflicting appointments or if she was merely early. He had the ten AM spot, after all, and it was nine fifty-five.

They glanced at each other for a moment and then the woman crossed her arms and looked away.

'Oh,' Bryce thought absently. 'Yowch. Cold fish.'

The door to the office opened and Jenna-the-secretary walked out. "The General will see you now."

Bryce got to his feet, and so did the blonde.

"Uh...this is my appointment," he said, giving her a charming, yet awkward smile.

The woman merely rolled her eyes and headed for the office door. "Somebody never learned to share their toys."

Bryce frowned, but followed. "I can share," he muttered. "Share all the time..."

General Diane Beckman looked up at them sharply, taking them in, obviously critiquing them in her head. What she was critiquing them on, or why, Bryce had no idea, but he, like the agent next to him, stood up straight with his hands behind his back.

"Agent Larkin. Agent Harvelle. Have a seat."

They both did, taking the chairs without really acknowledging each other.

"Agent Joanna Harvelle," the General said, nodding to the woman. "Meet Agent Bryce Larkin of the CIA."

Bryce nodded. "Harvelle."

"Larkin," she nodded back. She was obviously trying not to smirk at him, but he wasn't sure what was so funny. Did he have something in his teeth?

"You shouldn't be so formal with each other," Beckman told them. "After all. You're going to be married in a month."

Silence fell over the office. Bryce looked at Harvelle, his blue eyes wide and shocked. She didn't look much better with her nose scrunched and her brown eyes narrowed at him.

Bryce opened his mouth and turned to the General. "While I'm glad that Agents Bartowski and Walker are on their way to having their spy flavored happily ever after, I don't think forcing marriages on agents-" 

"The terrorist Cameron James is back on US soil," Beckman interrupted him.

Bryce shut his mouth. "Right. This is a mission."

Harvelle snorted, and he rewarded her with a glare.

"James will no doubt be after you, Agent Larkin," Beckman went on. "And we have to draw him out. A wedding is the perfect setup."

"And we're all aware that he's the bride in this situation, right?" Harvelle smirked, pointing a thumb at Bryce, whose face soured.

"Agent Harvelle, this is serious," Beckman scolded. "The two of you are to make the next month as public as possible. Other agents will be posing as family and friends, and you'll have a budget and a wedding planner provided for you."

"Other agents," Bryce repeated. "Do I get to pick these other agents?"

Beckman sighed. "Don't worry, Agent Larkin. Chuck and Sarah are on a plane from Burbank as we speak, along with Colonel Casey, who will be posing as Jo's uncle."

"Jo?" Bryce asked, turning to Harvelle. "They call you Jo? Like...Joe the plumber?"

"People who live in glass houses and have dumbass names like Bryce shouldn't throw stones," Jo told him. She turned back to Beckman. "Is Sarah gonna be on my side or his?"

His eyes widened. "You know Sarah?"

"Agent Walker and Colonel Casey helped train Agent Harvelle, and as I understand it, Agent Harvelle and Agent Walker have...a past," Beckman explained. "You'll have to work out the relations of each agent for yourselves."

Bryce huffed and sat up. "With all due to you, General, and to...Agent Harvelle...I don't know if I can work with her on this. I'm used to working alone."

"Doesn't share toys, and doesn't play well with others," Jo said under her breath with a smirk.

Bryce closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Agent Harvelle was trained by Colonel Casey. Who, I'm sure we're all aware, doesn't like me very much. I don't see how things will run smoothly if I'm working a very sensitive job with one of his students."

"Figure it out," Beckman told him. "And Agent Harvelle, please stop teasing Agent Larkin. He's apparently feeling sensitive today."

"Must be that time of the month," Jo commented.

Bryce sat back, crossing his arms. Clearly, he wasn't going to win any sort of verbal spar, at least not here.

The General cleared her throat. "Agent Larkin, you and Agent Harvelle will be provided a townhouse for the next month to give the allusion that the two of you are a couple preparing for your wedding."

One glance at Jo told Bryce that she wasn't expecting that at all.

"You will live together, go on scheduled dates, and do all the things a normal couple in love would do. We will place agents around the corner of the townhouse at all times, and we already have a team tailing James." 

"One question, General," Bryce said. "If we're making this highly public, what's to stop our real families from finding out?"

"Nothing," she said simply. “We’re banking on making this look as real as possible.” 

Bryce’s jaw clenched. That was not good. He turned to Harvelle. “You can’t possibly be alright with this; involving your family in this.” 

A cold silence fell over the room, and Bryce felt the color drain from his face. He glanced at Jo, who shifted in her chair, and didn't meet his eyes.

"Oh."

"You're both dismissed," Beckman said.

*****

"How do you know Sarah?"

Oddly Bryce had a hard time keeping up with Jo as they walked out of the NSA building.

"She trained me."

Bryce shook his head. "Beckman said there was a different connection. And Sarah doesn't train people. The CIA is too wary of how uncontrollable she can be to let her train anybody."

Jo scoffed a little as she headed toward an old blue GTO. "I guess that makes sense. She always was a little wild."

"You gonna answer my question?" Bryce called after her. "We are supposed to be getting married now, you know."

"You're the super spy," she threw over her shoulder as she opened up the car door. "You figure it out."

Bryce watched her hop into the car and start a grumbling engine.

It wasn't until after she'd driven off that he realized that she had taken the directions to their new townhouse with her, and he had no idea where he was supposed to go.

*****

After obtaining the information he needed back in Beckman's office, Bryce hopped into the car the CIA had provided him and sped off down the road.

He sighed heavily. It was going to be a long month.

Bryce played with his blue tooth, getting it settled on his ear as he drove and managed to get Chuck's number dialed in.

"This is Agent Bartowski! How can I service you?"

"Funny, Chuck."

"Hey, Buddy. How's it going? How’s your new assignment treating you?” 

Bryce sighed. "You mean my impending phony nuptials with Agent Harvelle? We're spending a month undercover as an engaged couple, and apparently staging a fake wedding to draw out a terrorist."

"I heard. Very RomCom."

"Tell me about it."

"It'd make a great movie."

"Yep."

"So? How is engaged life?" Chuck teased. 

Bryce rolled his eyes. "Stop it. When are you getting here?” 

“Tomorrow,” Chuck said. “We’re packing today.” 

“Is Sarah there?"

"Yes she is."

"Can I have a word?"

"I will check." Chuck's hand covered the receiver, but Bryce could still hear bits and pieces of conversation, and then a heavy sigh.

"Hi, Bryce."

"Hey, Sarah."

"What?"

"Not happy to hear from me?" Bryce asked.

"I'm fine hearing from you," Sarah replied simply. "Since when do we do small talk? What do you need?"

"Joanna Harvelle."

Sarah became oddly quiet at that.

"Sarah?"

"How do you know Jo?"

"I was about to ask you the same thing," Bryce told her. "I just got paired up on this mission with her. Beckman said you helped train her, but I know that you've never been assigned a trainee. Well, Chuck. But that hardly counts."

"Jo...Bryce, Jo is my sister."

"What?" Bryce asked.

"What?" Chuck cried in the background.

Sarah sighed heavily. "Not...really. Not technically. But we grew up together."

Bryce frowned. "Good to know. I should probably let you go so you can explain the details to your boyfriend."

"Yes you should."

"See you, Sarah."

 

*****

Bryce tapped on the door of the old row house in Dupont Circle and sighed heavily, looking around the nice neighborhood. It had taken a lot longer than he'd hoped to get into the city, but what did he expect from a place built for the purpose of confusing people.

The door swung open and there was Jo, leaning casually, wearing a pair of cutoff jean shorts and a black t-shirt; a far cry from the tailored dress she’d worn in General Beckman’s office. She grinned. "Took you long enough."

Bryce grimaced. "Can I come in, please?"

She stepped aside and let him step into the house. It had been redone and decorated, obviously by the NSA and CIA. It was narrow, but long; the living room furnished nicely with a large fireplace and an ornate staircase just in front of the door. There was a half wall that separated the living room from the small, but functional kitchen, and there was a bar to sit at instead of a kitchen table. Through the kitchen, Bryce could see a doorway that hid another staircase.

"Nice place," he told her.

She nodded. "Yeah. They didn't skimp. Bedrooms are upstairs, along with the bathroom."

"There's only one?"

Jo nodded again. "Just one. Looks like we'll get to know each other pretty well."

"Lock on the bathroom door works?"

"Your delicate sensibilities are in luck," Jo told him. "They dropped off some real terrible photoshopped pictures of us while we were at Fort Meade; hung 'em up all over."

"You'd think they'd hire better graphic artists," Bryce muttered as he got a look at a photo of the two of them, cuddling on a picnic blanket. Bryce's head in the photo was much too small for the body it was placed on, and the tilt of Jo's head didn't match her body language at all.

Jo grinned a little and then crossed her arms. "Make yourself at home."

Bryce nodded and watched her walk toward the kitchen, before following her. "We should probably get to know each other. We're supposed to be getting married after all."

She turned to him and leaned against the bar. "Yeah, okay."

They stared at each other in silence for a long moment.

"Okay," Bryce said awkwardly. "Okay, I'll start. My name is Bryce. I was born and raised in Connecticut. I went to Stanford University, and am now apparently fake marrying you."

"Well, it's real nice to meet you," Jo replied thinly.

He waited patiently, rocking on his heels and looking around the cheerily decorated kitchen, with its blue and white checkered wallpaper, and white tiles.

"It's your turn,” Bryce said quickly as his patience wore out.

Jo sighed. "I'm Jo. I was born and raised in Nebraska. I, apparently, am fake marrying you right back."

"That's it? That's all I get?"

"What else do you want, my bra size?"

Bryce grinned charmingly. "Wouldn't hurt."

"Ooh, he thinks he's funny."

"Where'd you go to school?"

"I didn't go to college," she told him, pulling open the large refrigerator and pulling a beer out.

Bryce frowned for a moment before recovering. “Well, you’re a beer drinker. I know that now.” 

Jo rolled her eyes.

"I know something else about you," Bryce said.

"Oh yeah? What's that?"

"Sarah Walker is your sister."

She stopped and then grinned a little as she lifted a leg, using the heel of her boot to pop the cap off of her beer. "Used that super spy crap to find out, huh?"

"I made a phone call," he replied lightly, watching her. "She's dating an old buddy of mine."

Jo frowned. "Sarah’s got a boyfriend?"

"Shocked me, too."

"Huh."

"What?"

"Never pictured Sarah having a steady relationship," Jo told him. "She never seemed the type. Especially after joining the CIA."

"She definitely had the tendency to be a little cold," Bryce agreed.

Jo quirked an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"We dated."

She groaned. "God, I've stepped into All My Spies, haven't I?"

Bryce grinned a little. "Something like that." 

Jo shook her head. “How do you CIA Spooks get anything done when all you do is sleep with each other?” 

Bryce gave a short laugh. “We manage.” 

“Uh-huh.” 

He bit his lip, still trying to figure her out. “There a beer in there for me?” 

“I dunno. Is there?” she asked, taking a sip from her own bottle. 

Bryce shook his head and pulled the refrigerator open, looking inside at its full stock. “You really are a cold fish. You’re not even trying.” 

“Trying to what?” Jo snapped, turning to him. “Flirt with you? You want me to get all giggly and melt all over you cause you’re some hot shot spy?”

“Hey- I just wish you’d be more friendly,” Bryce bit back, pointing the beer bottle he’d just pulled from the fridge at her. 

“I’ve known you for like an hour!” Jo cried. 

“And I’ve known you for an hour,” he pointed out. “You don’t see me giving you the cold shoulder.” 

“Mhm. That’s cause you’re tryin’a get into my pants.” 

Bryce stared at her for a long moment, before starting a search for a bottle opener in the kitchen cabinets. He had to be honest; Jo was beautiful, and if it weren’t for her freezer-burn attitude, he’d try harder to flirt with her. “That’s only a little true.” 

Jo rolled her eyes. “Yeah. Whatever, Super Spy Barbie.” 

He scoffed. “Me? I am not Super Spy Barbie, you are Super Spy Barbie.” 

She crossed her arms. “Oh really? I thought I was a cold fish.” 

“You are a cold fish,” he said through gritted teeth as he pulled a silver bottle opener from the back of a drawer.

“Well this cold fish is takin’ her beer up to the master bedroom,” Jo told him as she headed for the back staircase. 

“You do that!” Bryce cried as he struggled to get his beer open. 

“I will!” She called down from the stairs.

“Fine!” he growled. 

“Fine!” 

A door slammed on the second floor just as the cap to Bryce’s beer flew across the room, and he spilled the contents of the bottle all over his shirt.

He slumped back against the counter with a groan.


	2. Chapter 2

Jo paced the master bedroom, her cell phone on speaker in one hand, and her beer bottle in the other. 

“How could you ever date this guy, Sare? He’s a jackass.” 

“He’s an agent, Jo,” Sarah pointed out. “There are very few of us who aren’t jackasses.” 

Jo groaned and slumped down onto the king sized bed. “He’s so...fake. It’s like he’s made of plastic.” 

“And for a long time, I was made of steel, remember?” Sarah said. “You get into that CIA headspace for too long and it’s hard to pull back out of it.” 

Jo grumbled.

Sarah’s voice took on an amused tone. “One way or another, you’re gonna have to figure out how to work with him. A whole month is a long time to hate somebody’s guts, especially when you’re living with them.”

“Hey,” Jo said, clearly ready to change the topic. “You never told me you had a boyfriend.” 

She waited for a long moment, wondering if Sarah had turned tail and hung up on her before a reply finally came. 

“I...I was undercover for over a year, you know,” Sarah said softly. “And...I was trying to keep everything under wraps.” 

“Please. You just didn’t wanna tell me.” 

“You make fun of me!” 

“I am your sister, it’s my job!” 

Sarah laughed at that. “Fine. His name is Chuck. He’s very handsome, and I’m very happy.” 

“Well, good,” Jo said, a grin on her face.

“You’ll get to meet him when we get there,” Sarah said. “We are playing, respectively, your sister, and Bryce’s best friend.” 

“Ooh. I get to tease you in person.” 

Sarah groaned. “Please tell me Dean is coming, so you’ll have someone else to poke fun at...”

“Haven’t heard from him,” Jo muttered. “Not since...” 

“Yeah, me neither,” Sarah said. “There's a girlfriend, you know.” 

“What?!" Jo laughed. “You mean he hasn’t married his car yet?” 

Sarah laughed too. 

Jo blew out a breath. “Think I should call him?” 

“Who, Dean? I don’t know...” Sarah trailed off for a moment before sighing. “I tried to call him when Sam first died but...” 

“He didn’t pick up?” Jo offered. “He did the same to me. Still talks to your Dad though I think. That’s what Bobby said.” 

“You know what it is,” Sarah told her. “It’s that he feels guilty about what happened to your mom. That’s why he won’t talk to you.” 

“What about you?” 

“Oh, come on,” Sarah groaned. “You know why. He’s mad at me because I wasn’t around to help.” 

Jo wrinkled her nose. “Bobby wanted to keep you out of all that End of the World crap.” 

“Doesn’t matter,” Sarah said, and Jo could tell she was shrugging. “I’m family. I shoulda been there.” 

Jo sighed and rubbed her eye. "Sare...come on..."

"No, he's right."

"He's not," Jo told her firmly. "He's just...screwed up. He and Sammy might as well have been twins, you know? Attached at the hip. He'll come around. You'll see."

She could hear Sarah smile a little. "Thanks, Sis." She paused for a minute, before going on. "Give Bryce a chance. I know he's..."

"A jack-ass?"

Sarah laughed. "I was going to say 'difficult,' but okay. He's jack-ass. But he's a jack-ass you have to work with. So give him a chance."

Jo huffed. "Yeah, okay. Other’n the boyfriend, how are you?” 

“I’m good,” Sarah said, and her voice was genuinely light and happy. “Things are good. Working for SHIELD right now, and I started teaching a self defense class.” 

Jo snorted. “That is right up your alley.” 

“Isn’t it? I’m really good at it,” Sarah boasted. “I might even have something to fall back on if I ever decide to quit the spy life.” 

“That somethin’ you’re thinking about?” 

Sarah stayed silent for a moment. “Well...not this hot second, but I’ve been doing this for a long time. A lot longer than you...one day, it might be time.” 

“What so you can settle down?” Jo snickered. “Pop out a couple of kids, buy a minivan and a house in the suburbs and contribute to bake sales?” 

Sarah scoffed. "Don't you have a terrorist to catch? A mission to complete?" 

"Ain't like he's shown his face yet," Jo muttered, glancing out the window of the bedroom and out onto the street. "We'll get to it when it presents itself." 

"Shouldn't you be going after him?" 

"Beckman said no," Jo said, sitting down on the couch by the window. "Said we should wait it out, draw him out slowly." 

"That woman knows how to torture people far too well for her own good." 

"You're tellin me," Jo snorted. "Wish I could just find the sucker and pop a cap in him, but orders are orders, so..." 

"Hang in there," Sarah said teasingly. "You'll get to shoot something soon." 

"Bryce better hope like hell it ain't him," Jo grumbled. 

"Aaaaand we're back to Bryce," Sarah said. "Either you really hate him, or you really like him and you don't want to admit it." 

"Gross. Shut up." 

"I call it like I see it," Sarah replied. "You used to do this all the time; find a guy, hate his guts and then sleep with him." 

"I'm on a job! I'm not gonna have sex with him," Jo snapped. "Jesus, Sare." 

"It wouldn't be a bad thing," Sarah commented. "And...he's not terrible in the-" 

"No," Jo cut her off. "No, no, no, we are not having this conversation. Ever." 

Sarah's smile came through the phone. "Okay. Never mind." 

"Damn right, never mind." 

"See you tomorrow?" Sarah offered. 

"Yeah." 

"Bye, sis." 

"Bye," Jo said. She hung up, and downed the rest of her beer.   
*****

Bryce paced the living room, taking it all in, mulling over his predicament.

A fake wedding.

One that his parents and sister would be informed of, and would more than likely show up for.

He waited nervously for his phone to go off; to play that Edvard Grieg piano concerto that his mother hated so much, and so therefore had to be her ringtone on his cell.

And then the real trouble would start. Because on top of rooming with Jo Cold Fish Harvelle and having to pretend to be happily engaged to her, his mother would demand complete control over the proceedings, despite the fact that this was a government-run sting to root out a terrorist.

 _"God knows if you'll ever actually get married,"_ his mother would say. _"So I might as well plan your wedding while I have the chance!"_

That voice, his mother’s voice, was enough to send him from the living room up the front staircase and banging on the door to the master bedroom. 

Or what he thought was the master bedroom. 

“Open up, Harvelle!” he cried, still pounding his fist. 

The door adjacent to the one he was facing opened and he turned to find Jo standing there, quirking an eyebrow. 

“What?” 

“We are gonna make this work,” he told her, bounding into the bedroom. “We are gonna be the best fake engaged couple that ever was, we...are gonna get to know each other so well, that even my crazy, dark-hearted mother is going to believe that we are a real, honest-to-god couple. We’re gonna do this mission right, and that starts right here, right now...Woman!” 

Jo slowly turned to face him, and he knew, from her raised eyebrows and disbelieving look that that last add-on had been the wrong move. 

“Okay. Forget...forget the ‘woman’ part,” Bryce said. “Forget that.” 

“Uh-huh.” 

“I’m Bryce Larkin. My real last name is Gilmore, I was born and raised in Hartford Connecticut, I went to Stanford to be an engineer and came out a CIA agent instead. I’ve been with the Company for around ten years. My favorite color is blue, my favorite food is a really nice beef bourguignon and I hate, and I mean hate, tuna salad.” 

He stared at her, his mind racing, and breathing hard from all the talking.

After a moment, Jo laughed. 

Bryce growled and stalked toward the door, but she grabbed him by the back of the shirt and pulled him back in and onto the couch by the window. 

“Look,” she said, standing in front of him. “I don’t do sharing real well. Even before I joined the NSA I did a hell of a lot of lying so...truths ain’t easy.” 

“Okay,” Bryce said, taking a deep breath. “Let’s start with...full name.” 

“Joanna Beth Harvelle.” 

“Ouch,” Bryce muttered. 

“I will kick you so hard,” she threatened, pointing at him. 

He shook his head out. “Sorry. It’s just a little...southern is all.” 

“Uh-huh.” 

“Where’d you grow up?” he asked. 

“Nebraska.” 

“Where in Nebraska?” 

“Nowhere you’ve heard of.” 

“Come on, Jo,” he whined. “I need to know these things. Where?” 

She huffed. “Just outside Broken Bow.” 

Bryce blinked, not saying anything. 

“What did I say?” 

He waved his hands, as if erasing something and shook his head. “Where’d you go to school?”

“We been over this, I didn’t.” 

“So what’d you do instead?” he asked. 

“Hunted demons, tended bar.” 

Silence fell over the bedroom, and Bryce stared with his mouth hanging open. 

“Oh, for cryin’ out loud,” Jo grumbled. “I know they teach you pretty boy CIA agents about demons and hunters at the Farm, don’t pretend like that ain’t true.” 

“Yeah, but...wow. You...wait.” He got to his feet and snapped a finger. “Of course you were a hunter, you’re Sarah’s sort of sister, Sarah’s dad’s a hunter.” 

Jo gave him a look as if he were the slowest person on earth. 

“That makes sense,” he said, calming down, and sitting down again. “So...favorite color.” 

“Green.” 

“And food?” 

“Fried catfish.” 

“I...have never had the pleasure.” 

“Kinda figured.” 

He blew out a breath. “Most hated food?”

“frozen spinach.” 

“Good,” he said, on his feet again. “This was great. We are on our way. We’ll start again tomorrow.” 

Jo shook her head and followed him to the door. “You are the strangest, most irritating person I’ve ever met. And I know Dean Winchester.” 

He just grinned before ducking out of the room, and then stopped, turning around just as the door closed. 

“Who’s Dean Winchester?!” 

He got no reply.


	3. Chapter 3

Sarah stepped off the train at Union Station and looked around. It had been a few years since she’d been to DC but it wasn’t a city that ever changed very much. Union Station looked just as it always had. 

This time was different though. This time, she was here with Chuck, and she was here for a wedding.

Sort of. It wasn’t a real wedding, but her sister would be pulling on a big fluffy white gown and saying “I Do” to Sarah’s former partner and ex-boyfriend. 

She wasn’t sure how she should feel about all of it, but mostly the whole situation made her laugh. It was all so incredibly ridiculous. 

There were less amusing aspects to all of this, however. While she’d told Chuck nearly everything he wanted to know about her life before Burbank and even before the CIA, there were a few omissions. 

Like the aforementioned sister, not to mention the two brothers that had always been around. 

They weren’t blood related to her, of course, but between being dragged to Ellen and Bill Harvelle’s Roadhouse in Nebraska, and the Winchester boys always showing up at the house in South Dakota, the quartet had learned to stick together.

Dean, Sarah, Sam and Jo. 

It wasn’t like that anymore of course. It hadn’t been for years. Sarah joined the CIA, Sam went to college. Jo stayed stuck in Nebraska for years, wanting to be a hunter like her father had been, and Dean trained at the knee of his own father, becoming incredibly good at the job, and after that...

After that there was the Apocalypse. Another detail she’d decided not to tell Chuck. But that was before all this. After telling him about her siblings, Sarah couldn’t very well go on a mission with him involving her family without telling him that one of their number had died. 

Sam was dead, two years now. In that time, the Apocalypse had ended, and Jo joined the NSA; Dean found a girl to settle down with and worked on cars for UNIT. So she’d heard at least. She kept tabs on Dean, but they hadn’t spoken in a long time

Chuck took her hand then, while his other clutched their two bags. The CIA was shipping the rest of their things to the hotel in a couple of days, since they’d be staying for the month. While they both worked for SHIELD and Stark Industries these days, the CIA still had first dibs when they needed them.

“So, what do you wanna do first?” Chuck asked as they walked through Union Station proper, filled with shops and restaurants. He stopped to look at a large directory and Sarah spotted the comic book shop on the list before Chuck did. 

She tugged on his hand and pulled him along. “We need to get to the hotel and set up. We’re here on a mission.” 

“But...y’know,” Chuck said. “Kind of a fun mission. A wedding mission, that’s...fun.”

“It’s work, Chuck.” She smiled at him. 

“Yeah, but Bryce and Jo aren’t gonna need us every second of every day,” he pointed out. “We could sneak off...DC’s got some amazing restaurants and museums. Have you ever been to any of the Smithsonians? Because I haven’t, and I’m kind of dying to check out Air and Space. And possibly the Udvar-Hazy Center.” 

“It does sound like fun,” Sarah said hesitantly. “And there are a whole bunch of amazing art galleries...” 

“See?” Chuck grinned. “You, me. Museums...a couple of romantic dinners...” 

She shook out her head. “It But I think Jo and Bryce are going to need us more than you think.” 

Chuck frowned. “Bryce is a pro, he’s fine. And Jo’s good, right?” 

“Actually, it turns out that they hate each other a little.” 

“Oh,” Chuck said softly. “Yeah. Bryce...he can have that effect on people sometimes.” 

Sarah turned to Chuck, taking her bag from him, lightening his load to just one. “Can I ask you something?” 

“Anything.” 

“How did you put up with him in college?” 

He frowned and then gave a soft guffaw. “How did you put up with him as a partner? And...a boyfriend?” 

Sarah opened her mouth and then closed it, lifting her head. “I asked you first.” 

Chuck shook his head. “He wasn’t like he is now, when we were in college. He didn’t think he was James Bond. He thought he was Bryce. He...y’know. He played video games and drank too much and we played pranks on the other guys in our frat and he ate fried chicken by the bucket. It’s his favorite food, you know.” 

“No, it’s not.” 

Chuck blinked. “Yeah. Yes, it is.”

Sarah laughed a little. “His favorite food if beef bourguignon.” 

“No,” Chuck said slowly. “No, baby, I’m sorry. Bryce lied. It’s fried chicken.” 

She blinked, silent for a moment and then burst into a full laugh, resting her head on Chuck’s shoulder. 

He smiled and kissed the top of her head. After a moment they started walking again. 

“He really told you his favorite food was beef bourguignon?” 

“He did.” 

“Excuse my French, but he is so full of shit.” 

Sarah sighed as they stepped out into the sunlight. It was late September and the air was crisp. People rushed past them toward an army of taxis waiting to take travelers to where they needed to be. 

“That’s probably why Jo doesn’t like him,” Sarah commented as they stepped up to a burgundy cab. “If he’d just act...I don’t know. Like a real person, she’d find it easier to work with him.” 

“The Dupont Circle Hotel, please,” Chuck said as the driver took their bags and he opened up the back door for Sarah. “Y’know,” he said as he got in next to her. “Bryce only turns that act up when he feels threatened.” 

“I do know,” Sarah replied, taking his hand again. “And Jo is nothing if not threatening.” 

“That’s actually really good to know for when I meet her,” Chuck said absently. 

Sarah’s eyes widened. “Oh my god I can’t believe I forgot! You’re going to be meeting Jo for the first time!” 

“Hey, it’s no big deal,” Chuck said with a grin. “Remember when you met my sister?” 

Sarah quirked an eyebrow. “We were undercover and you set my soufflé on fire and then put it out in the shower.” 

“Right,” Chuck said slowly. “Yeah. Okay, that was a bad example.” 

“Uh-huh.” 

“Sarah, I love you, and she loves you,” Chuck said. “We have that in common, right?” 

He was right, and Sarah knew it. She relaxed a little, resting her head on his arm. 

***** 

“So Chuck and Sarah are getting in today,” Bryce said as he poured himself some coffee. “Tomorrow we have to start planning this thing.” 

Jo tilted her head as she watched him doctor his coffee from the breakfast bar. “I thought the CIA was planning it.” 

“We get input,” Bryce replied. “It’s our wedding, after all.” 

She grinned a little. “No it’s not.” 

“Our fake wedding,” Bryce amended. “Fine. You don’t want any say in it? What you wear? What we eat? Flowers?” 

“I don’t care,” Jo shrugged. “It ain’t real. We’re doin’ it to lure James out.” 

“It’ll work, too,” Bryce said. “The guy’s got it in for me.” 

“What’d you do?” 

Bryce shrugged. “He had a pipe bomb at O’Hare. I chased him, caught him...broke both his arms...his nose...I think he lost a couple teeth...” 

Jo gave a low whistle. “For a pretty boy you sure can be vicious.” 

“I’d been chasing the guy for a month,” Bryce told her. “And he’d tried to blow me up before.” 

“I woulda done worse’n broke his arms and nose and teeth,” Jo muttered. 

Bryce grinned a little and leaned over the bar. “So. What else do I need to know about you, Agent Harvelle?” 

“I take my coffee black,” she told him. “Unlike you. How much sugar’d you put in there?” 

“Enough to keep me awake for a couple days,” he told her. “I like my sugar.” 

Jo took another sip of coffee. “Lord help me.” 

“I’m not that bad.” 

“Uh-huh.” 

Bryce rolled his eyes and sipped his own, but froze dead as his phone began to play a certain piano concerto.

Jo snorted softly. “The hell is that?” 

“Edvard Grieg,” Bryce groaned and snatched up his phone. “Hello, Mother.” 

Jo tilted her head as she watched Bryce get to his feet and hop up the stairs. She could hear yelling from the other end of the phone.

*****

“A wedding?!” 

Bryce slowly sat down on the bed in his room, his back straight, and his chin up, as if his mother were actually there in the room with him, instead of sitting in her home in Hartford, Connecticut. “Yes, mother.” 

“Why on earth would you-” 

“It’s for work, Mother,” Bryce said evenly. “And you don’t have any obligation to come. You were sent an invitation for authenticity’s sa-” 

“Oh, I see,” she drawled out. “So I’m not really invited.” 

Bryce sighed heavily. “You are. And you’re welcome to come, but it’s not-” 

“Well, I might as well. I may never get a chance to see you get married ever again.” 

He closed his eyes. It both relieved him and made him a little sad that he knew Emily Gilmore so well that he could predict her every stinging word. “That’s fine. Then you can come.”

“Oh, I can come, how nice of you to say,” she said sarcastically. “May I pick out my own ensemble for the event or will I need to run that by you as well?” 

“Mother-” 

“While we’re on the subject, who on earth is planning this sham?” 

“My employers,” Bryce said. 

“Why do you keep saying that?” Emily asked. “I know who you work for.” 

“We’re on the phone,” Bryce reminded her harshly. “And you’re using a landline, and they are easier to tap than cells. My employers are planning the wedding.” 

“Yes, and I’m sure they’ll throw the cheapest, plainest-” 

Bryce closed his eyes, and suddenly found himself agreeing with Jo. Did this wedding really matter? In the long run, it was fake, and they wouldn’t even make it to any sort of reception. 

“It doesn’t much matter,” he muttered. 

“What?!” Emily cried. “Of course it matters! You’re getting married!” 

“It’s not-” 

“Well, obviously you and this Joanna girl can’t be trusted to handle things yourself if you’re just going to let the C-” she stopped and huffed. “If you’re just going to let someone else plan it. If anyone is going to plan it, it will be me.” 

“Mother, you really don’t have to-” 

“I’ll be down in DC in a couple of days,” she told him. “I’ll take the train down, and we’ll get everything sorted out. It won’t be easy, since we only have a month, but I can make it work. There’s a wonderful florist just off Connecticut Avenue. What is this Joanna’s favorite flower?” 

Bryce froze. “I have no idea.” 

“You’re marrying her and you don’t know her favorite flower?” 

“Mother, we’re not really-” 

“Find out before I get into town, would you please? And pick out a color scheme.” 

“But-” 

“I’ll see you Friday morning, Bryce. I’ll be at Union Station at Ten AM sharp.” 

Bryce bit his lip and closed his eyes. “Yes, Mother.” 

“Goodbye, Bryce.” 

“Goodbye, Mother.” 

*****

Down in the kitchen, Jo’s phone rang, and she snapped it up, taking a sip of her coffee as she looked at the caller ID. The name “Bobby” popped up with his phone number and she pressed the little green button to receive the call. 

“Hey, Bobby.” 

“So, marriage, huh?” 

Jo grinned. “It’s just a job, Bobby.” 

“Uh-huh,” he said, his voice sarcastic and unimpressed. “Who’s Allan Harvelle?” 

She wrinkled her nose. “No clue.” 

“Well, the invite says ‘Mr. and Mrs. Richard Larkin and Mr. Allan Harvelle cordially invite you-’” 

It clicked and Jo grinned. “Ooh. That’s my uncle.” 

“I’m your uncle.” 

“Well, yeah, but this is my uncle on the job,” Jo told him, knowing it was okay to speak freely. Bobby’s phone lines were all locked down. “It’s no big deal, Bobby. We’ll have a wedding, and take out a terrorist.” 

Bobby chuckled. “You want me to be there?” 

“You can come if you want,” Jo told him. “Sare’s already here with her boy toy.” 

“Ooh. Chuck. Yeah I met him about a year ago,” Bobby said. “Nice kid. Computer geek bigger’n Sammy ever was.” 

Jo quirked an eyebrow and sat back in her chair. “Yeah? Sarah’s got herself a nerd?” 

“He’s a good kid,” Bobby said sternly. “Go easy on him, he’s been through a lot.” 

“What do you mean?” 

Bobby snorted. “Like I’m gonna tell you. You go have girl talk with your sister, an’ she’ll fill you in, I ain’t gettin’ in the middle of that.” 

Jo grinned. “Fine. How long’s it been since you’ve seen Sarah, anyways.” 

“A while.” 

“You should come. NSA and CIA are footin’ the bill for all this, including fancy hotel rooms.” 

“Nah,” Bobby said. “You got enough problems comin’ your way, you don’t need me wanderin’ around.” 

Jo bit her lip. “Heard from Dean? He got invited, too...” 

Bobby sighed heavily. “Not recently. He lived with that girl of his in England for a little while, an’ then headed to Louisiana for a little, but I think they’re both back in Kansas now.” 

“I should call,” Jo said quietly, tapping a finger on the countertop. 

“Might not be a bad idea,” Bobby told her. “Cas says he’s been a little unhinged.” 

“This is Dean we’re talking about,” Jo snorted. “he’s always a little unhinged.” 

She could almost hear Bobby roll his eyes over the phone. “Call your damn brother, ya idjit.” 

“Yeah.”

Bryce hopped down the stairs then, and Jo glanced up at him before turning her attention back to the phone. 

“You sure you don’t wanna come?” 

“I’ll think about it,” Bobby told her. “Behave.” 

“If I have to.” 

“Bye, Jo.” 

She hung up and turned to Bryce. “So. How was-” 

She stopped and turned toward the front door as a heavy fist pounded on it. 

Bryce sighed. “It’s like Grand Central Station today,” he muttered, as he swung open the door. He looked up at the taller, beefier, older man on the other side of the threshold and grinned a little. “Casey.” 

“Larkin.” 

Colonel Casey pushed past him, carrying a bag of supplies. “Gonna be staying with you two lovebirds.” 

Bryce blinked. “No. No, that’s not right. There’s only two bedrooms.” 

Casey settled himself on the couch pulling a laptop from his bag. “Gotta make you two look like a real couple. Especially if you’re being watched. Have you two even been covering your tracks in terms of coupledom at all?” 

“We’re bein’ watched?” Jo asked, walking over.

“Thought I taught you better than that,” Casey grumbled, turning the laptop on to show a map of the perimeter around the row house. “You’re always being watched, Cameron could be anywhere. Get with it, Agents.” 

“We’re doing the best we can,” Bryce grumbled, leaning against the closed front door. 

Casey shook his head. “Jo, I expected to be a little green. She hasn’t been doin’ this for too long, but you, Mr. All-Star Spook, I expected to be more practiced. What, too many late night Halo dates with your boyfriend?” 

“I do not talk to Chuck that often,” Bryce groused. 

“Phone records say otherwise,” Casey commented. He pointed to the screen, mostly addressing Jo. “So you’ve got possible watchers here, here, and here. Any one of them could be Cameron or his goons. He’s been recruiting, so you’re gonna have to be careful.”

“You’ve been tapping my phone?” Bryce snapped. 

“Not the point,” Casey said. “Cameron is after you, Larkin, and by extension he’s after Harvelle here. And for some reason, you’re not playing along with the whole happy couple thing.” 

“You think I’m bad, you should watch her,” Bryce grumbled. 

Jo shrugged. “What can I say? I ain’t the marryin’ type.” 

“Well you better change your tune on that,” Casey told her. “We’re having dinner with Walker and Bartowski tonight, and I want you kids to be real sappy.” 

“Do you?” Bryce teased. “Do you really?” 

Casey grunted. 

“By the way,” Bryce said lightly, turning his attention to Jo. “My mother is arriving on Friday, and I cannot wait for you to meet her. I think she already hates you.” 

“Well, don’t that just make me the luckiest bride to be,” Jo laughed. 

Casey’s attention had turned back to the computer and he held up a hand to quiet them. “We’ve got company.” 

Jo blinked and looked at the screen; a red dot had appeared behind the row house. She stepped over Casey and pulled a small pistol out from a case hidden inside the couch cushion.

Bryce’s eyes widened. “We’ve been here for less than two days. When did you have time to-” 

She headed for the back door that led into the small alleyway behind the house without answering his question and Casey gave Bryce a smug grin. 

“I don’t know why Beckman thinks you’re so good.” 

Bryce glowered, and pulled open the hall closet door, pulling his own piece from the top shelf. “Shut up, and cover her, I know you’re already armed.” 

“I’m just that predictable.” 

They followed Jo slowly. Bryce watched her step out into the alley and look around, gun raised. 

“Shoulda brought the shotgun,” she muttered as she stepped closer to a dumpster against the wall of an opposite building. 

Bryce followed at the ready and Casey was only a few steps behind him. 

“If that’s a rat in there, I’ma be pissed,” Jo muttered as she uncocked her weapon. “C’mon outta there.” 

For a long moment, nothing happened. 

“I don’t care who you are,” Jo said, raising her voice a little. “I will shoot you.” 

Bryce frowned and gave her a confused look. “Is that wise?” 

Then, from behind the dumpster stepped a dark haired man in a trench coat and a rumpled suit. He gazed at them quizzically with his bright blue eyes and tilted his head, obviously a little confused. 

Jo groaned and lowered her weapon. “Dammit, Cas!” 

Bryce blinked and grinned just a little. “Whatever happened to ‘I don’t care who you are, I will shoot you’?” 

“Put a sock in it, Larkin,” Jo groused. 

“Who the hell is this, Harvelle?” Casey asked, his weapon still at the ready. 

She sighed. “Casey, Bryce, this is Castiel. Cas, this is Casey and this is Bryce.” 

“The man you are marrying,” Castiel said slowly, looking Bryce up and down judgmentally. 

Jo almost said no; almost told him that it wasn’t real, but they were out in the open. Anyone could be watching; anyone could be listening. 

“Yeah. Yeah. Bryce ‘n me...yeah.” 

“He is short,” Castiel said. “But symmetrical.” 

Casey wrinkled his nose, obviously a little disgusted and grunted. 

“Dean wanted me to come,” Castiel said. “He wanted me to see what was going on.” 

“Dumb bastard can’t just pick up a phone, huh?” Jo muttered. “Brothers. Go figure.” 

“What shall I tell him?” Castiel asked. 

“To pick up the damn phone and call me,” Jo snapped. “Or better yet, come here himself instead of sendin’ you like some damn errand boy.” 

Castiel nodded, and with a flutter of what sounded like enormous wings, was gone. 

Casey and Bryce stood stunned.

“What the...” 

“Did he just...” 

“Jo...” 

“What the hell was that?” 

“That was Castiel,” Jo sighed as she headed for the back door. “Angel of the lord. He was here on my big brother’s behalf, though lord only knows why he agreed to it.”

“Excuse me...Angel of the lord?” Bryce asked, dashing after her. 

“You believe in demons, don’t you?” Jo grumbled, as she stepped inside. 

“Been possessed a time or two,” Bryce told her. 

“Course you have.” 

“So...there’s demons...and angels.” 

“Yep.” 

“Great,” Casey grunted. “Another report I gotta write about up about different life forms for the NSA.”


	4. Chapter 4

Sarah straightened out Chuck’s tie as they waited for the rest of their party to arrive. 

“So it’s us, Jo and Bryce, and Casey?” Chuck asked. “How many times has Casey shot Bryce now?”

“A lot,” Sarah replied with a little grin. She had to admit, she really enjoyed being undercover with Chuck while they were actually dating instead of only pretending to be a couple. “It’ll be fine. They’ll all behave.” 

“We hope,” Chuck grinned. “At least the two of us will.” 

“Really? Totally over your Bryce angst?” Sarah asked. 

“Completely,” Chuck nodded. “Nothing gets you over a grudge like a twelve-hour game of Halo.” 

“Interesting methods, Agent Bartowski,” she grinned. 

“Why thank you, Agent Walker,” he smiled. “I pride myself on my inventiveness.” 

She laughed just a little and tugged him into a kiss by his tie. 

“Well, well, what do we have here?” 

At the sound of her sister’s voice, Sarah pulled away and turned to find Jo standing behind her, flanked by Casey, whose face held his customary “that is just disgusting” look that he reserved just for Sarah and Chuck. Behind Casey was Bryce, shoulders slightly slumped, the wind obviously taken out of his sails.

Sarah couldn’t help herself. She threw her arms around her younger sister in a hug. “I can’t believe how long it’s been!” 

“You’re tellin’ me!” Jo laughed, hugging her in return. “You look great!” 

Sarah pulled back and beamed at her. “I am pretty great.” 

Jo smiled and playfully tugged on a lock of Sarah’s hair. They both giggled. 

Chuck cleared his throat softly. “Hi. Hey. Hi. I’m Chuck.” 

Jo quirked an eyebrow and pulled away from her older sister. She looked Chuck up and down critically before turning back to Sarah. “He’s tall.”

“Yes, he is.” 

“He’s like Sammy tall.” 

Sarah sighed. “I know he is. But he’s much thinner.” 

“That’s true,” Jo nodded. “I’m Jo.” 

“It’s really nice to meet you,” Chuck said, sincerity evident in his voice. “Like...really nice to meet you. I...I haven’t really gotten to meet much of Sarah’s family.” 

“Ain’t many of us left,” Jo pointed out. “But I get your meaning. Good to meet you too.” 

Oddly, Jo felt an understanding with this goofy, tall man instantly. They both cared deeply for Sarah; both wanted what was best for her, and to keep her safe. 

Jo nodded slowly. “Okay, Chuck. You get a pass. You don’t get hazed. At least not by me. We’ll see when Dean gets here.” 

“Do we know if he’s coming yet?” Sarah asked, worry in her voice. 

“Well, Cas showed up earlier today cause Dean asked him to check things out,” Jo said, with a soft snort. “So yeah, probably.” 

Sarah’s eyes nearly fell out of her head. “He sent Castiel to do his dirty work?” 

“Yep.” 

“Ugh. Remind me to kick him in his stupid face when he gets here,” Sarah said. 

Jo nodded. “Noted.”

Casey cleared his throat and Jo huffed. 

“And uh...” She reached back, snatching Bryce by the sleeve and tugging him forward. “This here’s my fiancé, Bryce.” 

Chuck grinned and reached forward for a hug. “Hey, buddy.” 

Bryce hugged him back, patting his back. “Hi. Can you please kill me?” 

“Nope! Not in my nature.” 

“Of course it’s not,” Bryce grumbled as he pulled back.

“It can’t be that bad,” Chuck said. “Jo seems...lively.”

“That’s one way to put it.” 

Chuck frowned. “Did you really tell her, and, by extension, Sarah, that your favorite food was beuf bourguignon?” 

Bryce frowned right back. “It is.” 

“Uh...no.”

“What? You think I don’t know what my own favorite food is?” 

“I think you’ve forgotten the extreme reaction you have to the taste of fried chicken.”

Bryce shut his mouth and stared. 

“Uh-huh. Bryce and fried chicken go together like...something that tastes amazing and the person who’s tasting the amazing thing,” Chuck said. “What’s with you?” 

“Nothing,” Bryce said, looking away. 

“Nope. Not buyin’ it. It’s not nothing.” 

“Chuck...”

“It’s not nothing,” Chuck countered. “If it were nothing you would have told the truth.” 

“Fine, okay?” Bryce snapped quietly as the others walked into the restaurant. “I told them that to make myself seem more classy.” 

Chuck snorted out a laugh.

“Stop.” 

“I’m...I’m sorry. I am, I just...” Chuck grinned at him.

“Stop!” 

“Come on, buddy,” Chuck said, laughter still tingeing his voice. “Let’s see if they’ve got some fried chicken here.” 

“Sure you won’t kill me?” 

“Yep.” 

“Damn.” 

*****

Chuck and Sarah sat next to each other, with Bryce and Jo on the other side of the table, and Casey at the head. It was a dimly lit place with soft music and a wait staff who seemed Too Good To Be There. 

The menu, Jo noticed, was filled with small plates, mostly of things she’d never eaten before, and hadn’t really ever intended to, but there was a first time for everything.

“So,” Sarah said pleasantly, if a little awkwardly. “Jo, you and Bryce have been together quite a while.” 

“Yep,” Jo replied, somewhat bored. ”Long while now.” 

“Well, we’re so glad you two crazy kids are finally making it official,” Chuck grinned. 

“Long time coming,” Casey agreed. 

Chuck lifted his glass of tonic water. “To Bryce and Jo. May the wedding planning go as smoothly as the marriage undoubtedly will.” 

“Here, here,” Casey said, lifting his glass of wine, a mocking grin on his face.

“You’re enjoying this a little too much,” Sarah muttered to him. 

“Yeah, well, simple pleasures,” Casey replied, taking a sip of his wine. 

“So!” Bryce said with a wide grin. “Chuck. Sarah. When can we expect the two of you to tie the knot?” 

Sarah’s eyes widened, her own wine glass frozen against her lips. 

Jo tilted her head. “Ain’t you two been together for a while?” 

“Well there was a year or so where we weren’t together,” Sarah said quickly. “So...so that doesn’t...” 

“It still counts,” Chuck said quietly.

“It does?” Sarah asked. 

“It does for me,” Chuck said softly. 

Sarah took a deep breath. ”I’m going to go use the restroom.” 

Chuck watched her get to her feet and walk off. He frowned and sighed heavily. “We’re living together,” he said quietly. “You’d think she woulda thought about it at some point...” 

Jo got up then. ”I gotta use the can, too.” 

Bryce shook his head and watched her walk off. “So refined. So elegant.” 

*****

Jo stepped into the bathroom to find her sister standing at the sink, staring at her reflection. 

“Sis?” 

“He wants to marry me, you know. He didn’t say it, but I can tell.” 

“No shit, he wants to marry you,” Jo said gently, standing behind her. “I coulda told you that when we walked up and found you two kissin.” 

Sarah took a deep breath and turned to her. “Really?” 

“Yep,” Jo nodded. “He’s head over heels for you.” 

“I know he is,” Sarah said. “But me? Married? To anybody?” 

“And why not?” 

“Because...because I’m me. I’m...” 

“Bad-ass agent Sarah Walker?” Jo grinned. “The girl who usedta moon over those old romance movies? I think I can see it.” 

Sarah sighed heavily. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been that girl.” 

“Not that long,” Jo said. “Not all that long.” 

***** 

Casey had stepped out to make a phone call and left Chuck and Bryce to get the verbal spar he knew they were holding in over with. 

“You deserved it you know,” Bryce told him. “Making such a big deal out of me and Jo, you totally deserved it.” 

“Okay, Bryce,” Chuck said, obviously not amused. “Fine. I deserved it. You keep on thinking that.” 

“You did.” 

Chuck rolled his eyes a little. “You know, it’s not my fault you wound up on this assignment, and it’s not my fault that you’re unhappy.” 

“Of course I’m unhappy!” Bryce hissed quietly. “Do you know how frigid that woman is?” 

“I’m not talking about being unhappy about the mission,” Chuck said softly. “I’m talking about in general. You’re unhappy.” 

“That’s ridiculous,” Bryce grumbled. “Even if I was, how would you know?” 

“Because whether you like to admit it or not, I know you,” Chuck said. “Better than Sarah. Better than probably almost everyone in your life. I know you.” 

“Please,” Bryce scoffed. “You don’t know anything about me anymore.” 

“You really think so?” Chuck challenged him, his voice getting slightly higher. “Okay. Fine. Your favorite food is, wait for it, still fried chicken.” 

“Fine. So what?” 

“You will actively make yourself sick off of Red Vines if it means you can finish the box,” Chuck went on. 

Bryce scowled. “Fine. Yeah.” 

“Your favorite color matches your eyes,” Chuck grinned widely. “Except...”

“Except what?” Jo asked as she sat down.

Bryce’s eyes widened and he shook his head at Chuck frantically. 

Chuck grinned even wider, turning to Jo and Sarah who had always come back. “Except that’s not his real eye color.” 

Sarah blinked at her boyfriend and then at Bryce. 

Jo snorted. “Please. Like that’s a shock.” 

“Bryce’s eyes are grey,” Chuck told them. “Not the inhumanly blue shade of his contact lenses.” 

The last two words were over pronounced, and they felt a little like a stab in Bryce’s back. 

“You suck so much,” Bryce snapped. 

“Blame the Laudenol, buddy,” Chuck said lightly. “It turned me mean.” 

“It really did,” Bryce agreed. “And if we weren’t in public right now? I would kick your ass so hard.” 

“Really?” Chuck asked, bewildered. “You’re that mad at me for revealing your secret? A secret which is neither deep, nor dark? Come on, Bryce. You look better without the contacts anyways.”

Bryce grumbled as the waiter walked up. “Good evening. Can I take your order?” 

“Casey ain’t back yet,” Jo pointed out. “Where’d he go?” 

“Phone call,” Chuck said. 

Sarah got to her feet. “I’ll get him.” 

“Hurry back so Chuck can surprise propose to you,” Bryce said. 

“The only reason I will be hurrying back is to wipe the floor with your face,” Sarah replied lightly, before walking off. 

“Not gonna let it go, huh?” Chuck asked. 

Bryce gave him a shit-eating grin. “Nope.” 

“The hell is wrong with you two tonight?” Jo asked. 

“Bryce is cranky and taking it out on me,” Chuck replied lightly. “This is nothing new. It used to happen all the time.” 

Jo grinned slowly and turned to Chuck. “So...Chuck. You knew Bryce back in the day.” 

“I did,” Chuck nodded. “We lived together in college. We shared everything.” 

“Not everything,” Bryce grumbled. 

Chuck grinned, and it was a little sad. “Yeah. Everything.” 

Bryce glanced at him and then back down at his plate. 

“What was he like back then?” Jo asked, sipping her beer. 

Chuck took a deep breath, still looking at his friend. “Different.” He looked at his phone and frowned. “You know, they should have been back by-” 

Before he could finish his sentence, Casey flew through the front window of the restaurant and across the table of a couple sharing dessert. 

Jo, Bryce and Chuck were on their feet in an instant, climbing through the crowded bar area to get to Casey. 

“What happened?!” Jo cried. 

“Where’s Sarah?!” Chuck snapped. He looked through the broken window to find Sarah with a scrawny-looking man in a full nelson. 

“Where is he?!” she snapped at him.

Chuck narrowed his eyes and watched as the man began foaming at the mouth. His eyes rolled back and a moment later he went limp in Sarah’s arms. 

“Shit,” Jo snapped. “Cyanide pill.” 

“Cameron means business this time around,” Bryce said quietly. “We should go.” 

“Yeah,” Chuck said. “Yeah that’s a good idea.” He stepped over the broken glass and helped Casey to his feet. “Doin’ okay, Colonel?” 

“Fine,” he said, though he was clearly in a daze. “Let’s get the hell outta here.” 

Chuck nodded, and led the way.

*****

Back at the house, Jo handed Casey some ice for his head. “I thought this was supposed to be easy. Now he’s got kids takin’ cyanide pills?” 

“He’s out for blood this time,” Bryce said as he set the pizzas they’d ordered down on the coffee table. 

He’d talked to the police before they left; called the NSA to come and do a clean-up job on the body and the bar. 

“It’s almost like he’s started some sort of cult,” Sarah said, taking a slice of pizza for herself. 

“That’s just what we need, a terrorist with a cult following,” Casey grumbled. 

“At least we know this is working,” Chuck pointed out. “The more public you guys are, the more chances we have of drawing him out.” 

“So what’s the next step?” Jo asked.

“Wedding planning,” Casey told her. “Run up a charge bill, go to every designer big name wedding vendor in the area.” 

“That shouldn’t be hard with my mother coming to town,” Bryce said. 

Chuck’s eyes widened. “Your mother is coming to town?” 

Bryce nodded. “Yep. Friday.”

“Ha!” Chuck laughed nervously. “Haha. That’s...that’s so awesome. That’s so...so awesome!” 

Sarah frowned. “What’s wrong?” 

“My mother and Chuck have a history,” Bryce grinned. “She walked in on him in the shower in sophomore year when he came home with me for Spring Break.” 

Jo snorted out a laugh. 

“It’s not funny,” Chuck pouted. “It’s awkward. Really, really awkward.” 

“‘Bryce,’” Bryce said, his voice high and nasally, imitating his mother. “‘Your tall friend should learn to lock the bathroom door behind him!’” 

Sarah couldn’t help laughing. 

“That’s not that funny,” Chuck grumbled. 

“It’s pretty funny to me,” Casey smirked. 

“About as funny as Bryce’s contact lenses,” Chuck muttered. 

Casey grunted quizzically and turned to Bryce. “Contact lenses?”

“Hating you more,” Bryce said through gritted teeth. 

“Bryce wears contacts,” Jo said to Casey. “His eyes are gray.” 

“Shoulda known the eyes were fake,” Casey said. “Most everything else about you is.” 

Bryce rolled his eyes and got to his feet. “I’m getting a beer. And I’m not offering to get one for any of you people because you’re consistently mean to me.” 

“You deserve it!” Jo called after him as he left the room. 

“You’re really hard on him, huh?” Sarah asked her.

“You act like you don’t got any feelings, you get trampled on as such,” Jo told her. “He got all mad the night we met cause I didn’t throw myself at him right after meeting him.” 

Sarah sighed. “Just get through the job and it’ll all be over.” 

“Yep,” Jo nodded. “Twenty-nine days to go.” 

“Hey, maybe you could come visit us in New York after you’re done,” Sarah offered. “I’d take a week off, we could wander around the city.” 

Jo grinned. “Sounds fun. If they don’t wind up shippin’ me off right away, I might take you up on that. A vacation would be nice.” 

“Tell me about it,” Sarah said. “I thought SHIELD would be easier than the CIA, but they work you like a dog, and I don’t even want to talk about Chuck’s hours.” 

“Bad, huh?” 

“He works with Tony Stark,” Sarah said. “Two hypergeniuses who are constantly on a caffeine high with only a man who’s terrified of getting angry to supervise them.” 

Jo laughed a little. “Christ. That sounds like a mess.” 

“Every other day there’s an announcement over the loudspeaker saying there’s been a fire or an explosion in their lab,” Sarah said, laughing along. “I keep worrying my boyfriend’s been blown up!” 

Chuck grinned sheepishly at them. “We’re actually pretty careful...about 92% of all the explosions are controlled.” 

“And they just rely on luck for the rest,” Sarah said. “You’re going to lose an arm.” 

“Nope!” Chuck said. “I’m too paranoid. If anybody’s gonna lose a limb, it’s Tony. You look in the dictionary at the word reckless and there’s his picture, right there.” 

“And he’s a terrible influence,” Sarah said. 

“He’s a moron with more money than sense,” Casey told them. “You watch out, Bartowski. That guy’ll get you killed.” 

“Don’t be so hard on him,” Chuck, taking a slice of pizza. “He’s a nice guy, most days. He’s just...y’know. An eccentric billionaire.” 

“That’s what they said about Bruce Wayne,” Casey grumbled. “Turns out he’s been funding a maniac dressed like a bat for two decades.” 

Chuck opened his mouth and then closed it. 

“What?” Casey snapped. 

“Nothing,” Chuck said quickly. “Nope. Nothing.” 

He gave a menacing grunt. “What, Bartowski?” 

“BruceWayneisBatman,” Chuck said quickly. 

The group went silent, staring at him. 

“It’s in the Intersect!” Chuck cried. “He was in a newspaper I was reading once and I flashed!” 

“Suddenly, life makes way more sense,” Bryce commented, sitting back down with his beer. 

“It came in handy when we were in Nanda Parbot that one time,” Chuck said. 

“When the hell were you in Nanda Parbot?!” Casey cried. 

“When I worked for UNIT. We were tracking the League of Assassins. It was a thing.” 

“This trip just keeps getting better and better,” Casey grumbled. “That’s at least two more reports I gotta write up for the NSA.” 

“If it’s in the Intersect, don’t they already know?” Sarah asked. 

“No, it might mean the CIA knows,” Casey said. “They didn’t actually share all their information before putting it into the Insect. Idiots.” 

“I’ll say,” Bryce said. 

“We’re gettin’ way off topic,” Jo said. “Cameron? Remember? He had some poor kid brainwashed enough to kill himself tonight.” 

“We’ve gotta find out where he’s hiding,” Bryce agreed. “Maybe we can take him out before the wedding.” 

“That’d be a dream come true,” Jo said. “Best wedding gift I ever coulda asked for.” 

“Then we pool information,” Chuck said. “What do we know about Cameron? What are his patterns? If he’s in town, where is he likely to stay? Friends in town? If not, who’s he imposing on. Who are his targets in terms of flunkies?” 

Casey nodded. “Let’s get to work, people.” 

*****  
It was late when they broke up for the night, and while getting Chuck and Sarah out the door hadn't been too hard, convincing Casey that he couldn't stay in the row house with them was challenging. 

"You have a guestroom," Casey pointed out. 

"Yeah, it's in use," Bryce snapped. "Now leave." 

Casey grunted and shook his head. "See you kids later." 

Jo watched him leave and then flopped down on the couch, looking at the web of information they'd worked so hard to put together that sat on the coffee table. 

"Cameron really has it out for you," Jo pointed. "You sure it's just that you kicked his ass?" 

Bryce was in the kitchen, putting away the leftover pizza. "He's nuts, what can I say?"

"That can't be all there is to it," Jo muttered, looking at the facts laid out before her. "Born in Kansas, with sociopathic tendencies and parents who worshiped the hell out of him to the point where he thinks he's a god, sent from above to reign down vengeance on the wicked...'cept who he thinks is wicked ain't exactly that way." 

"And even if they were, it's not up to him to be judge jury and executioner," Bryce said. "So he goes on a killing spree first, and he doesn't get caught. He amps it up and blows up an office building. He gets flagged by the NSA and the FBI, not to mention the local police in Texas where it happened." 

"And then he flees the country," Jo added. "But not before you kick the everloving hell out of him." 

"He had it coming." 

"I ain't sayin' he didn't," Jo told him. "But you didn't catch him." 

"No," Bryce groused. "No, I didn't." 

"Well, you will," Jo said. "We will." 

Bryce looked at her and took a deep breath. "Yeah. We will." 

*****

Sarah stretched as she made her way from the door of their hotel room to the bed, and then flopped down, somehow remaining elegant. 

Chuck pulled his sport coat off and hung it on the back of the desk chair before tugging his already loosened tie off. 

She watched him in the mirror that sat in front of the desk, noticing his slumped shoulders and averted eyes that didn’t meet hers, the thin frown his lips formed. 

She knew him well enough that these signs meant either a: he was really tired or b: he was unhappy. 

Sarah was willing to take a wild bet that it was both. 

“What’s wrong?” she asked quietly. 

“Huh?” He looked at her finally, brown eyes a little wider. “Uh...no. No nothing’s wrong.” 

“You’ve gotten better at lying over the last few years,” Sarah said with a rueful grin. “But you’re still not that good.” 

Chuck turned to her and leaned against the desk, crossing his arms. 

Even though they’d been living together for some time...even though they’d been...together...for a long while now, it still snuck up on Sarah just how much he’d changed. 

Gone was the squeaky, scared nerd, replaced by the confident, muscular spy before her. A nerdy spy, of course, and he was still Chuck. He was just...different.

And she liked it. She liked his confidence and his competence.

It had come at a price. While she had been undercover, he’d been taken prisoner and drugged and made to do things even she as a seasoned agent had trouble stomaching the thought of.

After everything that happened, they’d moved to New York together, to work for SHIELD and Stark Industries. Chuck spent his days in their lab with Tony himself, along with people like Bruce Banner, though Chuck was brought in on missions when they felt they needed an extra set of hands. Sarah worked as an agent, with the likes of Nick Fury, Maria Hill and Phil Coulson.

It was a good life they had together. They worked hard and then came home to each other. Some days they got to have lunch together, and some days Chuck would send gardenias to her desk, or chocolates, or just little notes with silly, romantic things on them. 

But when Chuck was serious, he was very, very serious, which still felt new for Sarah, despite all their time together. It still felt so different. There were days when they first met that she had a hard time getting him to really be serious about their dangerous lives. 

“I know that Bryce dropping the whole...’when do you think you guys will get married’ thing on us was low,” Chuck said softly. 

She shifted. She should have seen this coming. “It was.” 

He nodded and walked over to her, sitting down slowly next to her. He looked at her, sincerely, adoringly. 

Yep. Still Chuck. 

He grinned just a little. “You know...you know that I’ve wanted to marry you since our first date, right?” 

Sarah pursed her lips. “Which first date?” 

He laughed softly. “Our first-first date. The one with the Mexican food, the sexy dancing and the car chase.”

She took a deep breath and looked at him. 

"You said you fell in love with me between fixing your phone and defusing a bomb with a porn virus, well...I figured out pretty quick I wanted to marry you," he told her quietly. "So...I guess Bryce being a jerk about it didn't phase me very much. At least not like it phased you."

Sarah blew out a breath. "I just...I guess I hadn't though about getting married. I mean, we've been busy. Moving to New York, and the new jobs and you took some more time to really recover after what happened..." 

"I learned a lot, you know," Chuck said. "When we were apart. I learned a lot. I learned that I shouldn't put my life on hold." 

"So, what are you saying, that you want to get married now?" Sarah asked.

"No." 

"Then what are you saying, Chuck?" 

He leaned back. "I'm saying I don't want to wait five more years. I don't want to wake up and realize we haven't moved forward. I'm saying...don't be shocked in a few months if I take you on the most amazing, romantic date of your entire life and then fish a ring box from my pocket." 

She tilted her head at him. "You're serious about this." 

"Yes I am," Chuck said. "I am." 

Sarah grinned a little. "You know, Casey would say something about your biological clock ticking..."

"You're right, he would," Chuck grinned. "Except that I'm not looking to marry just anybody. I'm looking to marry you." 

She sat silently for a long moment before reaching out and taking his hand. 

He grinned at her and then kissed her cheek. "It's late. And we only have one more day before Bryce's mom gets into town, and then we're all in trouble." 

"His mother is really that bad?" 

Chuck smiled wistfully. "The worst." 

"No." 

"Yeah," he told her. "Yeah, she is. She's got a lot of money to throw around and she's very take-charge, and if things don't go her way, she will make everybody miserable, and she's very, very good at it." 

"No wonder Bryce doesn't talk about his family very often," Sarah muttered.

"They're good people," Chuck mused. "They just have more money than sense sometimes, and they produced kids who don't share that trait so things get a little tense." 

"Kids? Bryce has a sibling?" 

"A sister," Chuck said, getting to his feet and starting to change for bed. "Older by about thirteen years." 

"That's one hell of an age gap," Sarah commented. 

"Yeah, but they get along really well," Chuck shrugged. "Like I said, the two of them don't share that whole 'more money than sense' thing..." 

"But he's still Bryce," Sarah grinned, laying back for a nice long stretch. 

"Yes," Chuck said, watching her. "Yes he is. I mean, when he's in the field, he is...when he...when he's not working, he'll revert back to the way he used to be. You know like back when we were in college, he was different." 

"So were you," Sarah pointed out.

Chuck nodded. "Yeah. I was pretty different. More cocky about my grades and my brains...more forgiving...more gullible...more trusting..." 

"Not bad things," Sarah told him, sitting up. "Not all of them."

He grinned and flopped back down on the bed in. "Depends on who you ask." 

"So, what are we doing tomorrow?" Sarah asked, wrapping an arm around him. 

"Well, it's been a long time since it was just Bryce and I and we weren't running for our lives," Chuck said. "Maybe we could hang out, and that would give you some time to catch up with Jo." 

She smiled. "That sounds like a great idea. I've really missed her." 

"I've never seen you so...giggly before," Chuck teased. "Do all your siblings bring that out in you, or just your sister?" 

"Just Jo," Sarah said. "Dean brings out the side of me that wants to punch people." 

"Ah." 

"And Sam..." 

Chuck frowned and held her tightly, kissing the top of her head. 

"Sam brought out the big sister," she said quietly. "I was very protective. Dean and I both were when it came to Sam and Jo...Sam needed it more though, you know? Jo was so good at taking care of herself that we felt like if we get overprotective, we'd just wind up stepping on her toes. But Sam...Sam needed us." 

He rubbed her shoulder. "I'm sure he appreciated it." 

"He didn't," she said with a sad little laugh. "At least he didn't most of the time. But..." 

"He was your brother." 

Sarah nodded. "We should get some sleep if we're going to spend the day with the bride and groom. They're gonna wear us out." 

Chuck nodded and kissed her, before letting her go get ready for bed.


	5. Chapter 5

The loud pounding on the door made Bryce jump out of his seat. Could it be that his mother had decided to show up earlier than she'd promised? That she felt that his "wedding" was in such shambles that she needed a whole extra day to get a head start on fixing his mess? 

Cautiously, he walked to the door and looked out the peep hole. There stood Chuck and Sarah, ready and waiting, coffees in hand. 

Bryce breathed a sigh of relief and swung the door open. "Morning." 

"Hey, buddy," Chuck grinned. 

"Where's Jo?" Sarah asked. 

"Upstairs, I think she just got out of the shower," Bryce said. He didn't get ask them inside before Sarah had pushed past him and up the stairs. "Come on...come on in, Sarah..." 

"It's a sibling thing," Chuck grinned. "Don't take it personally." 

"I never do," Bryce muttered. "What are you doing here?" 

"Well, Sarah and Jo are gonna have a girls' day out," Chuck told him. "I figured that left time for you and I to hit the Air and Space museum." 

"Oh?" 

"Yeah! It'll be great! You...me...Smithsonian..." 

"Shouldn't we be working?" Bryce said with a quirked eyebrow. 

"We worked last night, and your mother is coming tomorrow," Chuck said. "This is our last day of freedom." 

Bryce groaned. "Don't remind me. When you knocked on the door I was scared that she'd gotten here early." 

"Well, you're safe for now, buddy,” Chuck grinned. “Just me, here to whisk you away to a nice quiet museum where they sell fake moon rocks.” 

Bryce grinned just a little. “Yeah, okay. Lemme go get ready.” 

***** 

“Girl time?” 

“Yep,” Sarah nodded. “Bryce’s mother is coming into town tomorrow and from   
what Chuck’s told me, she’s...difficult. So I thought you and I could go   
out...maybe hit the shooting range and then get manicures.” 

Jo laughed. “Yeah, okay. Better’n bein’ cooped up here, waitin’ for Casey   
to show up and make us work on something can’t be worked on any more than   
it already has.” 

“Than guns and nails it is,” Sarah smiled. “And you can tell me all about   
your thrilling adventures as an NSA field agent.” 

“And you can tell me about your new domestic lifestyle,” Jo smirked. 

“You don’t want to hear about my thrilling SHIELD adventures?” Sarah asked   
jokingly. 

"I do, I want to hear all about 'em," Jo grinned. "But we're gonna need beers." 

They both hopped down the stairs and toward the kitchen, just as was pulling on his coat. 

"What're you ladies up to?" Chuck asked with a grin. 

"Beer," Jo replied.

"This early?" Bryce frowned. "It's like ten in the morning." 

"Don't be such a ninny, Bryce," Sarah teased as Jo pulled a six pack from the fridge and they both dashed up the back staircase. 

Bryce shook his head, and Chuck grinned. 

"Come on, buddy. Historical aircraft is just what you need to take your mind off all this." 

*****

"I'm sorry," Cameron James groveled. "I'm so sorry I failed you." 

The man he was bowing his head in front of nodded slowly, the abandoned warehouse they were working out of in South East DC was dark and damp. Not ideal but it served their purposes.. "Normally I'd kill you. But you still serve a purpose. So you'll live just a little longer." 

"Yes sir. Yes sir, thank you. Thank you, Sir."

*****   
They lounged on the floor of Jo's bedroom, each with a bottle of beer.

"Do you like DC?" 

Jo thought about that for a moment, taking a sip from her bottle. "Y'know, I didn't think I would, but I do. You can walk everywhere you need to go...nice mix of people...never boring." She glanced at her older sister. "Which you like better? California or New York?" 

Sarah laughed a little. "Definitely New York. Don't get me wrong, I have good memories of California..." 

"Uh-huh." 

"Shut up." 

Jo grinned.

"New York is definitely more my speed. There's a French bakery down the street from our apartment." Sarah grinned. "I'm gonna get so fat." 

Jo snorted. "Yeah, sure." 

"They have hand-made fresh macaroons every day," Sarah said wistfully. "You remember that bakery twenty minutes down from the Roadhouse?" 

Jo laughed. "With the fresh donuts and the crazy old man who hit on my mom? All the time?" 

They both laughed then, and soon went quiet.

"Miss her," Jo muttered. "Specially now with all this fake wedding crap." 

Sarah gazed at her fondly. "That woman would have had you over her knee so fast for joining the NSA." 

"Safer'n hunting." 

"Not by much." 

"You're one to talk, CIA Barbie." 

Sarah scoffed. "Is that really what you think of me?" 

"At first it was," Jo admitted. 

"Gee, thanks." 

"Look, you ran off," Jo snapped. "We don't see you for a whole year, and you come back lookin'...like...like this!" 

Sarah lifted her head. "I like the way I look now." 

"There was nothin' wrong with the way you looked before." 

"Oh, please." 

Jo looked bewildered. "You were a teenager! You woulda grown out of it. You did grow out of it!" she pointed out.

Sarah hesitated. "Maybe." 

Jo rolled her eyes.

"Don't you judge me!" Sarah cried. "You're not a real blonde, either!" 

"Maybe not, but I dye my hair at home." 

They stared at each other for a long moment and then burst into laughter again.

"This is stupid," Sarah giggled. 

Jo nodded and sipped more beer. "She'd laugh about this job. My mom, I mean." 

Sarah nodded back. "She would. And she'd hate Bryce." 

"A lot," Jo grinned. 

"Mhm." 

"She'd probably love Bartowski, though," Jo said. 

"Maybe," Sarah said softly. "Maybe not. Though he's not exactly a tough guy. Ellen liked 'em tough." 

Jo shrugged. "All different kindsa tough." 

Sarah nodded and picked at the label on her beer bottle. "You really think I can get married?" 

Jo grinned. "I think if Dean can be happy with one woman, in one town fixin' cars then you can get married." 

"Thank you for your permission," Sarah muttered sarcastically. 

"You asked!" 

Sarah laughed and took another swig.

***** 

"What do you think the girls are talking about?" Chuck asked as they wandered through the World War 1 aviation exhibit. 

"Us," Bryce replied. 

Chuck wrinkled his nose. "It's nice to know some things never change." 

"Like what?" 

Chuck just grinned at Bryce. 

"Okay. I'm self-involved." 

"Just a little, Buddy." 

Bryce huffed a little. "What do you think they're talking about?" 

"All kindsa stuff," Chuck shrugged. "Whatever sisters talk about." 

"So food," Bryce joked.

Chuck laughed. "that's just your sister." 

They wandered out and toward the art gallery. 

"So Jo seems cool," Chuck said. 

Bryce snorted. "Yeah, if you like cold, cruel women." 

"Aw, come on, you barely know her," Chuck said. "She can't be all bad." 

"She is," Bryce told him. 

"Why, because she's not in love with you?" 

Bryce grimaced, and they took a seat on one of the benches. 

"That's it, isn't it?" Chuck grinned. "She didn't fall for you right away, and that makes her some kind of stone-cold bitch or something." 

"I didn't say that!" Bryce cried. 

"You didn't have to," Chuck told him. "It's written all over your face." 

Bryce huffed and turned to him suddenly. "I hate this. I hate that you know me so well, that you have me all figured out. I hate it!" 

A few passersby stopped to stare at them, and Chuck waited until they walked off before he said anything.

"What do you want me to do, pretend I know nothing about you?" Chuck asked. 

"Yes!" 

"No can do," Chuck shrugged. "I know you, and I'm not gonna pretend like you're somebody you're not, even if that's what you want everybody in your life to do." 

Bryce wrinkled his nose. "How were we ever friends?" 

"Well, I wasn't friends with CIA Super Spy Bryce Larkin," Chuck pointed out. "I was friends with fun-loving, intelligent college student Bryce." 

Bryce groaned. "Must you start with this? You weren't this big a pain in my ass when we were working jobs together when you lived in England!" 

"I was still bouncing back from Laudenol," Chuck told him. "I'm better now. And I'm far less willing to put up with anybody's crap." 

Bryce huffed. "I don't like you anymore." 

"Why, because I'm stronger now and harder to manipulate?" Chuck asked. 

Bryce narrowed his eyes at him.

“You know what I think?” Chuck asked, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

Bryce sighed heavily. “What? What do you think?” 

“I think you’re so grouchy about Jo and this job because you’re finally around people who can see right through you,” Chuck said. “And it drives you crazy.” 

“Or maybe I just prefer to work alone,” Bryce snapped. “Ever think of that?” 

“Nope!” Chuck grinned. “Cause you liked working with Sarah.” 

Bryce quirked an eyebrow. “Could that be because we were sleeping together?” 

“And she didn’t question anything you did,” Chuck nodded.

“Until she met you,” Bryce grumbled. 

Chuck grinned. “We’re really good at rockin’ each others’ boats, huh?” 

“You said it.”

Chuck slumped back on the bench and gazed at the painting ahead of them, depicting a burning airplane in the sky. “What if you just rolled with it?” Turning to look at his friend.

Bryce frowned. “What?” 

“Roll with it,” Chuck repeated. “Just...be Bryce. Don’t try so hard to be this other person.” 

They sat in silence for a long moment, before Bryce turned to him.

“So just...let it go.” 

Chuck nodded. “It’s not easy. There’s so much stuff I’ve had to let go of in the last year or so and it’s tough.” 

“But in the long run...” 

“It’s up to you, buddy,” Chuck said. 

“But you think I should.” 

“I think the way you’ve been dealing with this mission isn’t helping you,” Chuck pointed out. “So it might be time to change tactics.”


	6. Chapter 6

Bryce opened up the door to the townhouse and stepped inside, only to stop dead in his tracks. This caused Chuck to plow into him, making Bryce stumble forward slightly. 

"Bryce, what-" 

"Ssshhh!" Bryce admonished, and then took a deep inhale. "I smell fried chicken." 

Chuck frowned. "That means I have to be quiet?" 

Sarah leaned out of the kitchen door, smiling widely. "You're back!" 

Chuck's frown deepened. "How much do you think they've had to drink?" 

"Judging by her big easy grin and lack of shoes?" Bryce muttered. "I'm gonna guess a lot." 

Chuck nodded and then grinned at Sarah. "Hey. Hey, baby. How's it going?" 

"Jo and I are making dinner." 

Bryce frowned, his eyes knit together. "You know how to fry chicken?" 

"God now," Sarah replied, wrinkling her nose. "But Jo does."

Chuck smirked and gave Bryce a small nudge.

Bryce glowered back at him, but walked into the kitchen, past Sarah to find Jo  
standing over the stove, a pan of frying chicken in front of her.

Bryce tilted his head, watching her as she watched the pan. She looked strangely beautiful; her wavy hair falling in her face, and her shoulders hunched a little.

She turned and nodded to him. "Hey." 

He swallowed. Clearly she was just more attractive because she was making fried chicken.

Clearly.

"Hey, Jo." 

Chuck moved forward and kissed Sarah. "Things going okay?" 

Sarah nodded and slid her arms around him. "Uh-huh. How was the museum?" 

"Good," Chuck grinned. 

"Good," Sarah repeated, quirking a skeptical eyebrow. "If it was really good, you'd be talking non-stop about everything you saw." 

"Well, we bickered a little," Chuck admitted, looking sheepish.

Jo snorted. "Bryce Larkin fought with somebody? Say it ain't so." 

Bryce ginned a little and shook his head. "Real funny." He leaned against the  
counter, his eyes still on her. "What possessed you to suddenly make fried chicken?" 

She shrugged. "Everybody keeps takin' about it, and it goes good with beer." 

"There goes my daily calorie count," Chuck grinned.

"Calorie count?" Jo asked, looking at him like he was crazy. "Ain't you skinny enough?" 

"It's for health reasons more than dietary," Chuck replied awkwardly.

Sarah rubbed his side gently. "He'll just be sleepy sooner than normal."

"We should all get a good night's sleep anyways," Bryce said. "Gotta prepare for hurricane Emily." 

"She cannot be that bad," Jo said as she places a few chicken breasts in the pan.

"She's not good," Bryce said.

"Agreed," Chuck nodded. 

Sarah turned to him. "Between Bryce's mother and my father, who's worse?" 

Chuck tilted his head, looking thoughtful. "Gun totting recluse versus the cold, scary socialite...how do you really compare those two?" 

"From a few thousand miles away," Bryce muttered. 

“Oh please, you love your mother,” Chuck laughed softly. “She just drives you crazy."

“Mothers are supposed to drive you crazy,” Jo said with a sad grin. “That's what they do.”

“You ready for her to drive you crazy too?” Bryce asked, grinning a little, moving closer.

“Bring it on,” Jo told him.

Sarah smiled a little and rested her head on Chuck's shoulder. It had taken a few beers to do it, but it was nice to see Jo a little more relaxed. “So what did you and Bryce bicker about?” she asked quietly.

Chuck blew out a breath. “Oh...y'know. Nothing much...the fact that Bryce is kind of a jerk, and it's not winning him any points.”

Sarah grinned at him. “If anybody can drive that point home, it's you.”

“Well, I don't like to brag, but I have been on the receiving end of his jerkiness quite a few times,” Chuck grinned.

“If it's any consolation, you got me,” Sarah pointed out.

Chuck wrinkled his nose, weighing that. “Yeah, I mean I guess that's pretty good, huh?”

She laughed and rested against him, and he kissed the top of her head.

*****

“So where's Casey?” Chuck asked as he dug into his fried chicken.

Sarah had set the table when Jo had finished making dinner, and now the four of them sat around it, digging into the fried chicken; all but Bryce, who had opted for a healthy salad instead.

“He had some meeting in Virginia,” Jo replied. “Said he'd be around tomorrow.”

Chuck nodded slowly. “This chicken is amazing.” He glanced at Bryce. “Sure you don't want any?”

“You know what? I'm good,” Bryce countered quickly, stabbing at his salad with his fork. “I shouldn't eat anything that heavy, so...”

Sarah gave him a strange look and then shook her head, before turning back to Jo. “Anything from Dean yet?”

“Nope,” Jo replied. “Jack-ass still ain't called me.”

“Could always summon Cas,” Sarah said jokingly.

Jo scoffed. “What, drive him so nuts he gets fed up and drops Dean on his ass on my doorstep?”

Sarah laughed. “I'd pay to see that.”

“Or you could call him,” Chuck offered innocently.

“That's assuming he'll pick up the phone,” Jo pointed out.

“Which he probably won't,” Sarah added. “Dean's been pretty messy since Sam died.”

“You said he has a girlfriend, right?” Bryce asked. “Why not call her?”

“I could call her,” Chuck said. “I worked with her.”

Sarah's mouth fell open. “You worked with Dean's girlfriend?”

Chuck frowned. “I thought you knew. She was part of my UNIT team. She was the tiny redhead. You met her.”

Sarah closed her mouth, looking embarrassed. “I guess I didn't put it together. She's...she's not really Dean's type.”

Jo snorted. “Let's be honest. If it's got lady parts and a pulse, it's Dean's type.”

Chuck grinned a little and turned to Sarah. “Do you want me to call her?”

Sarah hesitated and looked to Jo, who shrugged.

“Can't hurt much. Most he could do it get all mad.”

“Which is normal.” Sarah commented. She blew out a breath. “Okay, Chuck. If you wouldn't mind.”

Chuck grinned. “I'm on it.”

Sarah reached out and stroked his neck. “Thank you.”

Jo turned to Bryce. “You're really sure you just want salad?”

“Yep!” Bryce replied, a little too loudly. “I am good. Great, even.”

Jo nodded slowly, obviously thinking he might be crazy. “Okay, then.”

*****

Chuck walked into their hotel room later that evening and leaned against the desk, pulling his phone out.

Sarah watched him, her face a mix of nervousness and impatience.

He dialed and waited.

“Hullo?”

Chuck grinned. “Hi, Miranda, it's Chuck.”

“Oh! Chuck! Hello! How are you?”

“I'm...I'm pretty good,” Chuck said. “Sarah and I are in DC.”

“Oh! For the wedding, yeah?” Miranda chirped. “We got an invite to that as well.”

“I figured,” Chuck nodded. “Are you guys gonna come?”

Miranda hesitated. “Well...I really can't say. It's up to Dean.”

Chuck raised his eyebrows, and looked at Sarah. “Is he there?”

Sarah shook her head vigorously, getting to her feet.

“Actually, he just walked in,” Miranda told him. “Would you like to speak to him?”

“Well, no, but I have somebody here who would.”

Sarah glowered at him harshly.

A gruff voice came through the phone then. “Yeah.”

Chuck held the phone out to Sarah and her glare turned to a look of outrage.

He waved the phone.

She snatched it and put it to her ear. “Hi, Dean.”

“Sare? Uh...hey...”

Sarah pulled a throwing knife from her shoe and stabbed the desk with it, embedding the blade into the wood, still glaring at Chuck. “How are you?” she asked.

Chuck grinned somewhat nervously and stepped out onto the balcony to give her some privacy.

*****

“Get rid of Bartowski.”

“B-but...” Cameron stammered helplessly. “But I thought you wanted Larkin.”

“I do. But I want Bartowski out of the way as well.”

Cameron wrung his hands. “But doesn't have the Intersect? Isn't...isn't he valuable?”

There was a deep chuckle. “Well, I suppose I'll need his brain then.”

*****

Chuck turned when the door to the balcony opened and Sarah stepped out.

“I can't believe you did that,” she said grumpily.

“If that phone call went badly I give you permission to dangle me over the balcony and threaten to drop me,” he told her.

Sarah rolled her eyes. “Like I need permission to do that.”

“Point,” Chuck nodded. “So?”

“It was...” Sarah sighed. “It was okay. He's Dean so he didn't actually talk about his feelings. Just that he's 'fine' and he's going through some changes.”

Chuck wrapped an arm around her.

“He said he still might come,” Sarah said quietly. “I hope he does.”

He kissed her temple. “I know.”

They stood together quietly for a long moment, her head resting on his shoulder.

Sarah frowned suddenly and lifted hear head. “Did you hear that?”

Chuck frowned too, looking around. “Hear what?”

Sarah pulled away and looked over the balcony. “The terrorists climbing up here to kill us.”

Chuck groaned. “And here I was, hoping for a quiet night.”

*****

They'd both turned in early in preparation for Bryce's mother's arrival, but Jo couldn't sleep. She just couldn't turn her brain off.

She slid from the bed and down the back staircase to grab something sweet from the kitchen.

When she made it to the doorway she found Bryce standing in front of the refrigerator, scarfing down the leftover fried chicken.

Jo grinned and cleared her throat.

Bryce looked up and his face turned red, his chewing slowed and he looked down at the container in his hands.

Jo waited.

Bryce still didn't meet her eyes. “So uh...hi.”

“Hi,” Jo replied.

“Any chance of me living this down?”

“Not a one,” she told him.

“Yeah, I was afraid of that.”

Jo laughed.

Bryce smiled sheepishly. “It's really good fried chicken.”

“Well, thanks.” She walked past him and toward the cookie jar on the counter.

“It's a little late for sweets, isn't it?” Bryce asked, watching her.

“Says the man with a bucket of fried chicken in his hands,” Jo smirked, taking a couple of cookies for herself.

“Touché.”

“Mhm.” Jo bit into a cookie but looked up when Bryce's phone rang. She looked to him, a little confused.

He frowned too, walking over to the counter and picking it up. “Hey, Chuck.” He frowned, his eyes narrowing. “Be right there.” He hung up and started heading up the stairs.

“What's wrong?” Jo asked, following him.

“They got attacked. We gotta go.”


	7. Chapter 7

When they arrived at Chuck and Sarah's hotel room, there were already agents on the scene and sheets covering what were presumably bodies.

"More cyanide pills?" Bryce asked as he reached Chuck and Sarah.

"Yeah," Chuck nodded. "When they realized they couldn't win and we started asking questions they bit down and swallowed them." 

"Great," Jo grumbled. 

"The question is why go after us?" Sarah asked. 

"Cause you're connected to me," Bryce said. 

"Chuck's the Intersect. It's a little self-centered to think James'd go to all this trouble just for you don't you think?" Jo asked. 

"Okay!" Bryce snapped. "I get it! I'm full of myself!" 

Sarah looked at him like he was crazy. "Calm down. We have bigger problems than the size of your ego." 

Chuck nodded. "We'll regroup tomorrow, get a hold of Casey." 

"My mother gets here tomorrow," Bryce reminded him.

"We'll work around her," Chuck said. "See you in the morning." 

***** 

Jo followed Bryce out of the hotel and onto the sidewalk. "What the hell is your problem?" 

"My problem?!" Bryce cried, turning to her. "What's yours?! And Chuck's for that matter? I'm sorry that I'm not the nicest guy on the planet, that's Bartowski's department. We can't all be practically perfect in every way." 

For the second time that night a blonde looked at him as if he were crazy. "I was tryin'a make the point that Chuck's the Intersect. And that's reason enough for a bat-crap insane terrorist to go after him." 

"Well why didn't you just say that?!" Bryce yelled.

"I did, but you got all crazy before I could finish," Jo snapped.

Bryce stopped and stared at her before raising his voice again. "Fine then! Why am I still yelling?!" 

Jo shook her head. "Couldn't tell you. What I can tell you is that you're not mad at me or Chuck." 

He stared at her. 

"You're mad cause you let yourself turn into this damn fool super spy who ain't got a life on the outside. So you wanna be all mad at somebody, look in the mirror." 

Bryce stayed silent after that as they started making their way back to the row house. 

The worst part was that Jo was right; he let himself slip into this. 

After a long, quiet walk, they reached the steps and Bryce turned to her. 

"Okay. You seem to have all the answers tonight. How do I change?" 

Jo looked him up and down. "The fried chicken was a good start." 

He watched her climb the steps and walk into the house, and then followed her.

***** 

It had been a long time since Bryce had pulled an all-nighter for something that wasn't work, but after getting changed into an old Atari t-shirt and a pair of sweat pants, settling himself in front of the television with a large box of Red Vines, and the rest of the leftover fried chicken, he proceeded to play video games well into the night.

It was around three when Jo wandered down the stairs, her eyes squinting in the light from the television. 

"Jesus, you're still up." 

"I'm Batman," Bryce replied, without looking up. "Did I wake you?" 

"Nah, I couldn't sleep," she replied, sitting next to him. She glanced at him, taking in his messy hair, and the empty container that she'd used to put the leftover chicken away. "You okay?" 

"I'm good," Bryce replied, mashing the buttons on his controller. "My mother's coming in tomorrow, and I figure if I stay up all night she might cut me some slack, but probably not. Also, I'm..." he sighed. "I'm taking Chuck's advice, and yours a little, and getting in touch with my nerd roots." 

"Never said anything about nerd roots," Jo pointed out.

"No, but that's what I took it as," Bryce said. 

"Huh." 

"So why can't you sleep?" he asked her, his eyes still on his game. 

Jo shrugged. "Ain't anything new," she told him. "I haven't had a good night's sleep in three years." 

Bryce frowned and glanced at her briefly. "That's a little dangerous. Especially in our line of work." 

"Is what it is." 

"What happened three years ago?" he asked. 

Jo pursed her lips. 

"Come on. Open up to Doctor Larkin," Bryce grinned.

Jo took a deep breath and kept her eyes on the screen. "I uh...it's a long story."

"It's three in the morning," Bryce pointed out. "And I am kicking the pants off of Solomon Grundy. We got time." 

Jo grinned a little, still not looking at him. "You know the world almost ended, right?" 

Bryce nodded. "Yep. Heard the whole story. Lucifer got out, tried to wipe everything clean off the map. Got stopped by the Winchesters." 

"Yeah," Jo said softly. "I was there for some of it. My mom and I. We were there." 

Bryce paused the game and turned to her, looking concerned. "Only a few people made it out of that whole big mess alive. That's why Sarah's dad didn't want her anywhere near it." 

Jo shrugged. 

"Your mom..." 

"We got jumped by hellhounds," Jo said. Her eyes still didn't meet his. They were far, far away. "I got attacked pretty bad...in the end..."

"Your mom didn't make it," Bryce said softly. 

"She made them take me," Jo said. "I didn't wanna leave her there. I didn't..." she huffed. "She made Sam and Dean carry me out. Make sure I got help. Make sure I was okay." 

He set down his game controller and moved a little closer to her. "Jo..." 

Jo swallowed hard, and Bryce took her hands in his gently. 

"Jo, that's what parents are supposed to do," Bryce said quietly. "Your mom loved you. She wasn't gonna let anything bad happen to you." 

She looked at him finally, her eyes a little red in the dim light. "I let her die." 

"No," he said. "No. She let you live." 

They stared at each other, their faces close together for a few moments, before, Jo pulled her hands away and got to her feet. 

"G'night, Bryce." 

He watched her and sighed. "Goodnight, Jo."


	8. Chapter 8

He didn't really notice when the sun came up, and he was far too engrossed in the game to get to his feet when the doorbell range.

"Jo! Can you get that?!"

She hopped down the front staircase in a pair of sleep shorts and a tank top. "What's wrong with your legs that you can't get the door?"

"They're busy being Batman," he told her.

Jo headed for the door, shaking her head. "You realize this is probably your mother."

"She's seen worse."

Jo scoffed a little and looked out the peephole. On the doorstep was an older, well-dressed, petite woman with red hair and an expectant look on her face.

She opened the door and grinned politely. "Hello. You must be Bryce's mother."

The older woman gave her a slow, critiquing once-over. "And you must be the bride."

Jo stuck out a hand. "Jo Harvelle."

All she got was a glance at her outstretched digits. "Emily Gilmore. We're going to have to find you a decent manicurist."

Jo let her hand fall to her side. "It's real nice to meet you too, Mrs. Gilmore."

Emily stepped past her through the doorway and looked around. "Well, it's certainly not awful for being on the government's dime." She walked into the living room and stopped when she spotted Bryce. "Oh for god's sake."

"Do not interrupt my game," Bryce said without taking his eyes off the screen, a Red Vine hanging out of his mouth.

"You can't pause for one second to say hello to your mother?" Emily asked. "I can see how a man dressed as a bat on a screen would be far more important than me."

"He's real," Bryce said.

"Oh, please."

"He's Bruce Wayne."

"What? Of course he's not Bruce Wayne, I know Bruce Wayne, he's one of your sister's oldest friends. He is not Batman."

Bryce grinned and paused his game. He got to his feet and walked over. "Hello, Mother."

"You're a mess."

"It's good to see you too."

"Did you sleep at all last night?" Emily asked.

"Nope."

"Of course not. That would have been sensible," Emily sighed. "Have you even started planning this wedding?"

He turned to Jo. "have we?"

She shook her head.

He turned back to Emily. "Nope."

"I thought not," Emily sighed. "That means we have a lot of work to do."

Bryce frowned and turned back to Jo. "Do we even have a budget?"

"We'd have to talk to General Beckman," Jo said, pulling her phone out. "Lemme text her."

As they waited for a reply, Emily fussed with Bryce's hair. "You need a haircut."

"I like my hair."

"It's far too long."

"It's not."

Jo watched them and grinned a little. When her phone buzzed, she clicked it and glanced down. She handed it off to Bryce, who shrugged and then handed it to Emily.

Emily looked at the number on the screen and her eyes widened. "ten thousand dollar?! How on earth am I supposed to plan a wedding on such a small budget?!"

Jo blinked. "Ten thousand's a lotta green," she commented.

"Not enough for a decent wedding," Emily told her.

"A decent wedding, or the wedding you have planned in your head for me?" Bryce asked, quirking an eyebrow.

He didn't get a response. Instead, Emily turned to Jo.

"You tell General Cheapskate that anything less than sixty thousand won't do."

Jo stared at Emily with wide eyes.

"Mother," Bryce said gently. "Ten will be plenty, especially considering the circumstances."

Emily glowered, and took the phone, typing into the text program.

Bryce sighed and gave Jo an apologetic look.

"Why don't I go upstairs...get dressed and then head out and pick up some breakfast?" Jo offered.

Bryce nodded and watched her go, before turning back to his mother.

"You're not going to give on this, are you?" he asked.

"Why should I?" Emily asked, staring down at the phone, seemingly trying to will it to give her a response.

Bryce sighed heavily, and spoke quietly. "Because this is a mission, and not my real wedding?"

"Thank god for that," Emily said. "That girl is a mess."

"Don't talk about her like that," Bryce said sternly. "She's a good agent, and we're in the same boat in this."

Emily quirked an eyebrow at her son.

"Just...give her a break, okay?" Bryce insisted. "Please?"

Emily huffed. "Fine."

"Thank you."

The phone rang, and Bryce snatched it from his mother, knowing exactly who would be on the other end. “Yes, General.”

“Larkin. Who is trying to bargain for more money for this wedding?”

Bryce glanced at Emily and sighed. “My mother, General. She feels that she can’t plan a decent wedding without a larger budget.”

“And who said that she was planning this wedding to begin with, Agent Lakin?” the General asked icily.

“She did,” Bryce grinned. “She’s very insistent.”

“And what about the planner that the CIA has on retainer for this?” the General asked.

“Well, to be honest, my mother plans a hell of a party,” Bryce replied. “And Colonel Casey planned a better wedding for Chuck’s sister than the Company planner has ever-“

He could hear her glower through the phone. “And how much of the hardworking, United States taxpayers' money would Mrs. Gilmore like to spend?” 

Bryce sighed and turned to his mother. “How much do you need to throw the wedding?”

“Ninety.”

“Thousand?” Bryce asked, eyes widening.

“Absolutely not!” General Beckman snapped. “Is she out of her mind?!”

“Mother,” Bryce said evenly. “Ninety is far, far too much. It’s far too much.”

Emily crossed her arms. “Fifty.”

“Twenty-five,” Beckman said through gritted teeth.

“Twenty-five?” Bryce repeated, giving her a pleading look.

Emily glowered at him. “Bryce Richard, don’t you dare give me that look.”

Bryce widened his eyes, ever so slightly, knowing that it would give him the appearance of a small woodland creature, despite his messy hair and unshaved face.

“Thirty,” Emily said, crossing her arms.

“General?” Bryce asked into the phone.

Beckman groaned. “Fine. Thirty. But this had better be worth it, Agent Larkin. You had better get the job done.”

Bryce nodded. “I always do.” He hung up the phone and sighed heavily, turning to his mother again. “Happy?”

“Not particularly.”

“That’s still a lot of money to plan a wedding with,” Bryce commented.

“Not nearly enough,” Emily replied. “And that’s not why I’m not particularly happy.”

Bryce sighed heavily. “You’re unhappy because of my chosen profession.”

“Among other things,” Emily said. “I don’t see why you couldn’t find a more suitable fiancé.”

“Oh god I need coffee,” Bryce groaned as he walked into the kitchen.

Emily followed him, watching him fumble with a coffee press. “If you needed a fiancé, I could have found you a perfectly nice one. You know, Cissy Kingston’s daughter is still single.”

“In high school, Danika Kingston snorted her weight in cocaine and had sexual relations with eighty percent of the lacrosse team,” Bryce blurted out.

Emily stared at him, her eyes wide with shock. “Bryce!” 

“It’s true! And while I have no room to judge over who and how many people she had sex with, since I have been no better, the coke was a huge turnoff.”

Emily narrowed her eyes at him. “And just how many people did you sleep with in high school?”

Bryce blinked at her. “Nobody. I didn’t have sex with anybody I was a perfect little angel.”

“Bryce! Did you learn nothing from you sister?!”

“I was careful!” Bryce cried. “I promise you there are no little Bryce’s running around anywhere.”

“There had better not be,” Emily muttered.

Jo stepped down the stairs then, tugging on her jacket. “Lord help us if you ever have kids.”

“Me? What about you?” Bryce snapped. “You would have big-mouthed, sour little children, and nobody wants that.”

Jo rolled her eyes. “You want me to pick up anything?”

“Muffins,” Bryce said.

“Got it. Bran okay?”

Bryce frowned. “You bring back bran and I will hurt you.”

“Like you could,” Jo said. “I’ll be back.”

“No hurry,” Bryce called after her.

Emily gasped when Jo lifted her middle finger, waving it at them, and Bryce rolled his eyes.

“Real nice, Harvelle.”

Emily waited until Jo walked out the door and closed it behind her to turn back to her son. “And you’re telling me that Danika Kingston isn’t better than that?”

Bryce grinned a little. “Danika Kingston can’t shoot a gun.”

Emily watched him as he made coffee. “Oh god.”

“What?" 

“You like her.”

Bryce blinked. “Danika Kingston? Not particularly. I mean she wasn’t terrible looking in high school, but she wasn’t really my-“

“That Jo girl,” Emily said slowly. “You actually like her.”

“I work with her.”

“Oh don’t try to pull that with me,” Emily warned him. “I may not know your sister as well as I thought I did, but I know you, and you like her.”

Surprisingly, Bryce felt a light flush creep up his face. “Mother.”

“You’re handsome and smart and very successful,” Emily pointed. She watched him carefully as he poured coffee into two cups. “You can do better.”

He looked up, frowning at her. “We’re not discussing this.”

“Alright,” Emily said lightly as she took the cup of coffee he offered her and then sipped from it. “If you say so.”

Bryce glowered at her and drank half of his own down in one gulp. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Fine.”

“She drives me crazy.”

“You said you didn’t want to talk about it.”

“I don’t!”

“Then we won’t,” Emily replied, sipping more coffee daintily.

They stood in silence for a long moment before Bryce cracked.

"Okay. Fine. I may be...starting to enjoy her company," he admitted bitterly.

"I see."

More silence followed as Bryce poured himself another cup of coffee.

"Danika Kingston really did that much drugs?" Emily asked absently.

"More."

"I see."  
The front door opened then, and Bryce looked up, expecting to find Jo had come back sooner than he thought she would, but instead found Chuck walking in.

“Hey, Buddy, I-“ Chuck stopped when Emily turned around to look at him. “Uuuh. Hi. Hi. Hi, Mrs. Gilmore. Welcome to…hi.”

Emily grinned thinly. “Chuck. Eloquent as ever.”

Chuck grinned awkwardly and then looked to Bryce and frowned. “Wow. What happened to you?”

“All-nighter,” Bryce replied, sipping his coffee. “Video games. Red vines. Fried chicken.”

“That’s nostalgic,” Chuck commented. "Why wasn't I invited?"

Emily rolled her eyes. “You’re both hopeless.”

“Thanks,” Chuck grinned. “Thanks for that.”

“Mother, Chuck is my best man,” Bryce told her.

“So it’s the blind leading the blind,” Emily said. “That’s wonderful. I’m sure this wedding will be a complete success.”

“Well, now that you’re here, it’ll go great!” Chuck said, a little too enthusiastically; trying too hard to channel his old self.

Bryce cleared his throat. “Mother convinced the General to loosen her purse strings a little. The budget went up.”

“Not nearly enough,” Emily said. “But I’ll make do. Do you know what size Jo is?”

Bryce thought about that for a moment and then shrugged. “Size tiny and annoying?”

Chuck gave a soft laugh. “She’s not that bad.”

“She’s pretty bad,” Bryce said. “But not that bad.”

Chuck smiled and patted his shoulder before moving into the kitchen to pour himself some coffee. “Speaking of, where is she?”

“She went to get some breakfast,” Bryce said. “Where’s Sarah?”

“Sleeping in,” Chuck said.

“Who is Sarah?” Emily asked, not really caring.

“Jo’s sister,” Bryce said. “And Chuck’s girlfriend. And the maid of honor.”

Emily nodded, still obviously apathetic as she sipped her coffee. “And when are their parents arriving?”

Bryce cleared his throat awkwardly. “Actually, Jo’s parents are no longer with us.” He turned to Chuck. “Is Bobby coming?”

Chuck shrugged. “No idea. I don’t think so. Sarah would have mentioned it.”

“Bobby said no,” Jo told them as she walked back inside, holding a box of muffins. “Hey, Chuck.”

“Morning, Jo,” Chuck grinned.

She set the box down and turned to Emily. “Okay. You wanna plan this wedding, let’s plan this wedding.”

Emily quirked an eyebrow. “Just like that.”

“I put this whole thing in your hands. You obviously know what you’re doing and I don’t have a damn clue.”

Bryce cringed. “Jo. Maybe you wanna rethink this…”

“Nope,” Jo said. “This has to get done. We gotta get us married, and your mother seems to think she knows exactly how that’s gonna happen. So let’s go. Let’s get this show on the G-D road.”

Emily stared at the younger woman; a look that was halfway between pleased at the notion of being handed the reigns of the wedding, and horrified at the way those reigns had been handed to her.

Silence filled the room, and Bryce hung his head, shaking it.

“Well,” Emily said, smiling a little. “The first thing we need is to find you a wedding dress.”

Jo nodded. “Makes sense. Let’s go get one.”

Emily raised an eyebrow slowly. “One does not simply go and get a wedding dress.”

“Like walking into Mordor,” Chuck pointed out playfully.

The assembled group stared at him and he slumped.

“Or. Y’know…not.”

"That's great, though," Bryce said, breaking the silence. "You ladies can go and dress shop, and Chuck, Casey and I can...do...the...guy...the guy parts."

Jo gave him a sour look at that notion, but didn't get to voice her unhappiness.

The door opened again, and this time, Casey lumbered in, holding a travel mug. "You mean we can track down James, while the girls make this thing authentic. It's actually a good plan. I'm surprised."

"I'm sorry, who is this?" Emily asked, looking up at Casey warily.

"Colonel John Casey, this is Bryce's mother, Emily Gilmore," Jo said, gesturing toward each of them.

Casey nodded. "Ma'am." He glanced down at the box of muffins and frowned. "No bran?"

Jo grinned a little and Bryce rolled his eyes.

"Let's just..." Chuck put up his hands. "I'll call Sarah and then you ladies can head out when she gets here."

Jo groaned.

"We'll keep you apprised of the situation," Bryce said. "And it's unlikely James will strike in broad daylight anyways."

"Famous last words, Larkin," Casey smirked, picking up a corn muffin and taking a bite. "Hrmph. Bran's better."


	9. Chapter 9

he bridal boutique was on the main drag in Georgetown, at the top of a steep hill.

Emily led the charge expertly from the corner they'd been dropped off at ("What is all this traffic?!" Emily had cried. "Why aren't these people at work?"), while Sarah and Jo lagged behind her a little.

It was a little cold, and the cobblestone streets beneath their feet somehow felt a little harder from the October chill.

"Think we'll survive this?" Jo asked.

"I'm intending to," Sarah told her. "I'm not so sure about you."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, Sis."

Sarah grinned slightly. "Anytime."

"This is completely humiliating you know," Jo told her. "Bein' booted out of finding our terrorist to go dress shopping."

"We're protecting our cover," Sarah reasoned. "We don't have to like it, we just have to get it over with."

"Why are the two of you walking so slowly?" Emily asked sternly. "We have appointment."

The two blondes hurried and caught up with the older redhead just as she opened the door to the small boutique.

The place was stuffed full with gowns and dresses of all shapes, and Jo and Sarah stopped dead in their tracks.

"Aw, hell," Jo said.

"What did you expect?" Emily asked, turning to give her a judgmental look. "We're in a bridal boutique."

"Emily! Darling!"

A short, round woman around Emily's age with shockingly high penciled-in eyebrows that made her look as if she were in a constant state of shock and brown hair styled into a beehive floated over to them. Her dress seemed as if it were something out of the fifties; a melon color with polka dots.

"Oh, Priscilla, it's wonderful to see you," Emily gushed, air kissing the other woman on both cheeks and receiving air kisses in return.

"Now, who is my bride?" Priscilla asked, looking both Sarah and Jo over. "Tell me it's the tall one."

Emily cleared her throat softly and stepped over, placing a slightly awkward hand on Jo's arm. "This is Bryce's fiancé, Jo."

Jo grinned, hoping it was a bright one. "Nice to meet you, Miss Priscilla."

Priscilla gave a high-pitched titter. "'Miss Priscilla'! How wonderfully down-home. I like her Emily, even if she is short."

Jo felt her grin crack a little.

"Come, Come, Come this way," the dressmaker said, bustling through the overstuffed racks to a small space with a pedestal in front of a mirror and a door which more than likely led to a dressing room.

Again, Sarah and Jo lagged behind the older ladies.

"I'm in hell," Jo muttered.

"It can't be that bad," Sarah whispered back.

Jo gave her an incredulous look. "Did you see that dress in the window?"

"Okay, yes, that was bad," Sarah agreed.

"Come here, please," Priscilla said, gripping Jo's arm and dragging her over to the pedestal.

Jo let herself be dragged, as she gave Sarah a wide-eyed stare. She stumbled a little on her way up onto the pedestal, and then suddenly Priscilla's hands were everywhere; her waist and hips, her shoulders and breasts.

"You might be short, but you're thin, honey," Priscilla said, ignoring Jo's attempts to shake her off. "Now! When you picture yourself in a wedding gown, what do you see?"

Jo blinked and looked to Sarah, who gave her the universal facial expression for "how should I know?"

While Emily gave an eye roll, Priscilla smiled indulgently. "Ball gown? Maybe a mermaid gown? Something a little sexy? Something a little more demure?"

Jo swallowed. "Well, I –"

"Let's try some ball gowns," Emily said with a slightly wicked grin. She took Priscilla by the arm. "Here, I'll help you pick them."

"I don't know, Emily," Priscilla replied. "I have an excellent sense for these things, and I don't think this is a ball gown girl."

"Nonsense! She loves them!"

Jo groaned, and Sarah did her best not to giggle.

*****

An hour later, Jo had tried on seven gowns. All of them were fluffy and bejeweled and, in Jo's opinion, absolutely awful. But she had kept her mouth shut; had let Priscilla and Emily critique each gown as she was led out of the dressing room and made to stand before them.

Occasionally Jo shot daggers at Sarah who was obviously trying very hard to hide her amusement.

"Just wait til it's your turn," Jo taunted as she walked out in the eighth dress; a corseted monstrosity with a deep sweetheart neckline her modest bust could not support.

Sarah couldn't stop a loud huff of laughter. "Oh I'm sorry," she told the other women. "I'm so sorry it's just…these dresses are crazy."

Jo looked around the boutique, looking for anything that would save her, and found a plain but fluffy ball gown hanging on the rack. She pointed. "There. That one. That's it."

Emily followed her finger and then wrinkled her nose. "That one? But it's so…plain."

"Yep. That's my dress."

"Well, it is a lovely pick," Priscilla said. "And I suppose you're starting to get a little tired of Emily and I using you as our own living fashion doll."

"Kinda," Jo said, working to keep her voice even.

Priscilla tittered again and took the gown Jo had pointed out off the rack. "Come along, dear. Hopefully this will be your last one."

Jo followed her back into the dressing room and sighed, struggling to unzip the dress she was wearing.

"You know," Priscilla said gently. "You don't seem too thrilled about getting married."

"I just ain't one for dresses," Jo muttered.

"Is that all?" Priscilla asked, helping her shed the gown carefully.

"Never thought I'd get married, either," Jo told her, crossing her arms over her chest and watching the older woman unzip the new frock.

Priscilla helped her step in one foot after the other. "Oh come now, my dear, everyone dreams of their wedding day."

Jo sighed. She didn't mention that she never expected to live to see her wedding day, and decided, as the older woman strapped her into the frock, that it was best to keep that to herself.

"Oh, my."

She blinked and looked at Priscilla, who was looking in the mirror. Jo turned toward it, her eyebrows raising in surprise.

"My dear girl, you look stunning."

Jo took a deep breath as she was suddenly flooded by strange thoughts about wishing her mother were there, and what the hell kinda shoes she would wear with this thing.

She shook out her head and took another deep breath. "Okay, then. Let's get this over with." She lifted the skirt of the dress and marched toward the dressing room door, stepping out and onto the pedestal. "This'll work."

Silence filled the little boutique as Emily stared in shock, and Sarah just smiled sadly.

"Yeah," she said softly, suddenly feeling mildly choked up. "That'll definitely work, Sis."

Priscilla clapped her hands and smiled widely. "It'll do more than work. It's the perfect dress!"

"Yes," Emily said quietly. "Yes it is."

*****

They'd been tracing their attackers for a number of hours when they got the call from Beckman.

"Cameron James is dead."

Bryce clenched his jaw and looked to Casey and Chuck.

"They found his body inside the Air and Space Museum this afternoon," Beckman went on.

Casey grunted. "Somebody left us a message."

"Yeah, but who?" Chuck asked. "Who else has got it out for Bryce?"

"And you and Sarah," Bryce added. "Jo pointed that out last night; that whoever's doing this wants more than just revenge on me, if he's after the Intersect."

Chuck stared at his friend and frowned. "Maybe that's the key."

"What?" Casey asked.

"The Intersect," Chuck said. "Who knows about the Intersect, aside from our circle, and some unfounded rumors inside the spy community?"

"The Ring," Casey said.

"Fulcrum," Bryce added.

"Both went under. Anybody else?" Chuck asked.

"Of course not!" Beckman cried. "The Intersect project was one of our most guarded secrets! No one knew-"

"The candidates knew," Casey said. "They had to have known."

"All of the candidates were killed," Beckman told them. "In the same blast that killed Director Graham."

Bryce thought hard, his eyebrows knitting together. "General, what about Quinn?"

He waited for an answer, but none came.

Chuck looked from Casey to Bryce. "Who is Quinn?"

"Got me," Casey said. He turned to Bryce. "Larkin?"

"Nicholas Quinn was the original top pick for the Intersect," Bryce said.

Chuck did a double take. "B…what? I thought you were."

"I wasn't," Bryce said gravely. "I was considered, but at the time they told me my ego was too large to be an acceptable candidate."

Casey snorted. "There's a shocker."

"Nicholas Quinn has been off the grid for a number of years," Beckman said slowly. "We sent him to Afghanistan after Bryce stole the Intersect."

"After that?"

"He was captured there…tortured…"

Chuck's eyes widened. "And after that?"

"He was discharged from the CIA," Beckman said. "After refusing psychological treatment."

"Yeah, he never was big on that kinda thing," Bryce muttered.

"You knew him?" Casey asked.

"Well, we were both up for the Intersect," Bryce told him. "And…he was the reason I stole the Intersect in the first place."

Chuck wrinkled his nose. "What?"

Bryce sighed. "Nicholas was unhinged, and he hid it really, really well. When he was chosen for the Intersect, Fulcrum contacted me, thinking I'd be bitter. I used their resources to send it to Chuck and then destroy it."

"And now he wants to kill you," Casey growled.

"Us," Chuck corrected.

"We don't know that it's him," Beckman snapped, and then paused. "But you're going to find out. Where are Agents Harvelle and Walker?"

"Dress shopping with my mother," Bryce said. "I should send her home."

"No," Beckman ordered. "You will go ahead with the plan for now."

Bryce narrowed his eyes. "General-"

"If it is Quinn, we don't want him knowing that we're onto him," Beckman explained. "Someone wants you and Agents Bartowski and Walker dead, and we're trying to draw them out…we're just going to have to move up the time table."

Bryce's eyes widened. "We're moving up the wedding?"

Chuck tilted his head, looking at Bryce, obviously confused. "Calm down, Buddy, it's not like it's real."

"The wedding will take place next weekend," Beckman said. "Get it done, Agents. Even if it's not Quinn we're dealing with, we need to end this."

Casey grunted. "Won't that be suspicious, General? Movin' the wedding up to a week instead of a couple months right after James gets offed?"

"Does our enemy know when the wedding is, Colonel Casey?" Beckman asked, obviously trying to be patient.

"Invitations haven't even gone out," Bryce muttered.

"Make it happen," Beckman told them, and then hung up.

Bryce sighed heavily and rubbed his eyes. "Okay. Okay. We need tuxes. And more guests."

"Cake," Casey grunted out. "A venue, flowers, a wedding band, place settings…food…center-pieces…lighting, table linens and chair decore..."

Bryce stared at them before heading for the stairs. "Excuse me. I have to go chew on my hair in a corner."

Chuck sighed and turned to Casey. "That was a little cruel, don't you think?"

Casey just snorted.

*****

James had failed him for the last time.

Nicholas Quinn had thought the man would be useful in this endeavor, but he'd been wrong, and James had proved more helpful dead than alive.

He watched from across the street, munching on some popcorn, as the paramedics and secret service closed off the Air and Space museum.

A taxi drove up, then, and two women got out. Both blonde. The taller one was dressed in a crème colored biker jacket and black skinny jeans, her feet encased in a pair of high heels. The shorter woman wore an olive green army and scuffed jeans with a pair of black work boots.

Larkin's fiancé and her maid of honor, Sarah Walker.

"What are you lovely ladies doing here?" Quinn muttered to himself, narrowing his eyes. He held up his phone and snapped a quick photo of the bride, sending the picture to an ID program James had lifted from the FBI before Quinn had killed him.

He watched as the women were let into the museum without any fuss, and then looked down at his phone.

Joanna Harvelle. NSA.

Quinn huffed and smirked. "So. An agency wedding. How sweet."

*****

Jo gave a low whistle as they walked around the corner and spotted the dead body hanging from the Spirit of St. Louis.

"So it was a good call, sending Mrs. Gilmore back to her hotel," Jo said.

"How the hell did he even get up there?" Sarah asked, frowning.

"Strung up," General Beckman told them as she walked up. "Agent Larkin seems to think this was Nicholas Quinn's doing."

"Who's that?" Jo asked, wrinkling her nose.

Beckman took a deep breath. "He was the original candidate for the Intersect Project. Before Bryce stole it and sent it to Chuck."

"So now he's after Bryce for revenge?" Sarah asked, looking back up at Cameron James' body.

"Seems legit," Jo said. "I can buy plenty of people wanting Larkin dead."

"So…James was working for Quinn?" Sarah asked, turning to the general. "Why would Quinn kill him?"

"Failure," Jo pointed out. "James' goons tried to jump as at the restaurant when you first got here, and then they went after you and Chuck in your hotel."

"Which means Quinn knows Chuck is the Intersect," Sarah said, her voice tinged with a hint of panic.

Jo placed a hand on Sarah's shoulder gently. "What's our next move?"

"We're moving up the wedding to next weekend," Beckman told them. "Get your ducks in a row, ladies."

"Good thing I found a dress," Jo muttered, still staring up at James' body. She blinked and then looked away.

"Okay?" Sarah asked quietly.

Jo nodded and swallowed hard. "Yeah. Yeah, just…ain't seen one of those in a couple of years. Least not that bad."

Sarah nodded understandingly. "General, do you need us for anything else? I think we're going to head back to the house."

"Go ahead," Beckman nodded. "You have a lot of work to do, even if it is just having to put up with Agent Larkin's mother."

Jo snorted, and Sarah grinned a little.

"Thank you, General."

They stepped out of the museum and passed the police and paramedics, taking off across the street in silence.

"Excuse me."

It was a gravely voice, but not unpleasant, and when they turned, they found that it belonged to a thick-set man with olive skin and deep, dark eyes. His hair was raven black, with flecks of gray at the roots, and his smile seemed…

It reminded Jo a little of Crowley, and she shivered.

"Can we help you?" Sarah asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"I was wondering if you had any spare change," the man said. "I lost my wallet, and I need some change to catch the ride-on back home."

"Sorry," Sarah told him.

Jo nodded. "Yeah, sorry."

He smiled again, wider this time, and placed a hand on Jo's narrow shoulder, causing her to flinch back. "That's alright, ladies. You have a lovely evening."

With that, he walked off.

Jo shook her head. "Shit. Shit, that was him," she said quietly.

Sarah took a deep breath. "He made us."


	10. Chapter 10

“Well he was skinnier the last time I saw him, but that sounds like him,” Bryce said when they were all back at the rowhouse. “He asked you for change?”

“Put his hand on my shoulder,” Jo said, looking vaguely uncomfortable.

Chuck served up chicken pepperoni for everyone and frowned. “What was the point? Wanting us to know that he knows who we are?”

“It’s a game,” Casey said. “He’s toying with us. He wants us to scramble, thinking we’ll get sloppy and he can make his move.”

“Good thing that won’t happen,” Bryce said as he took a seat next to Jo. “We’ve got my mother working on the wedding planning, though she’s not thrilled that the date’s been bumped up. Now she doesn’t have enough time to invite all her friends.”

Sarah shook her head. “She does understand that this isn’t what she thinks it is, right?”

“On some level,” Bryce said. “But she also knows I might never actually get married, so this might be her only chance to throw me the wedding of her dreams.”

“She want you to look like a pretty princess, Larkin?” Casey teased.

“Considering how little say she gets in my sister’s life on a regular basis? I wouldn’t be shocked,” Bryce grinned back. He took a bite of food and then glanced at Jo, who was pushing the food around on her plate. “You okay?”

She nodded. “Fine.”

He nodded back and went back to eating. “So? Any word from your brother?” he asked Sarah.

“He’s not coming,” Sarah said. “It’s too short notice, and he says that something came up this week.”

“Probably just feelin’ lazy,” Jo said. “Or he really don’t wanna see us.”

“Sure he does,” Chuck said gently. “He’s your brother, he loves you guys.”

“Winchesters, Singers and Harvelles don’t really indulge in the warm fuzzy stuff the way you and Ellie do, Chuck,” Sarah told him, a little amused.

“Yeah, we’re more of a ‘hold still so I can punch you’ kinda family,” Jo grinned.

“Ah, so that’s where it comes from,” Chuck grinned playfully and squeezed Sarah’s hand before digging into his food.

“How bad do you think this wedding’ll be?” Jo asked as she ate.

“It’s gonna be bad,” Bryce said. “My mother loves planning parties, and she’s been dreaming about planning her children's’ weddings since she started thinking about having kids in the first place.”

“Wow, I can’t even imagine thinking that far ahead,” Sarah said.

“Chuck’s been thinking about getting married since he knew what it was,” Bryce said jokingly, earning himself a glower from his best friend.

Sarah smiled and looked at Chuck. “Oh, I know he’s a planner. That’s what I love about him.”

Casey grunted in disgust.

*****

“You wash, I’ll dry?” Bryce asked as he stepped in next to Jo in front of the sink. Chuck, Sarah and Casey had gone back to their hotel, and the rowhouse was quiet now.

“Well ain’t that downright domestic,” Jo grinned as she waited for the water to get hot.

Bryce shrugged. “Just protecting our cover.”

“Right.”

He frowned. “You okay? You seemed kinda quiet at dinner tonight. You didn’t make fun of me once.”

She shrugged. “Casey had it handled.”

“That he did,” Bryce agreed as he watched her start to wash the dishes. She’d been hand washing them since they moved in, even though they had a dishwasher. He didn’t ask why she never bothered with it. “So?”

“It’s nice of you to be concerned, but I’m fine,” she told him.

“How bad was James’ body?” he asked.

Jo froze with her hands under the hot water for a moment before starting to wash the dishes. “It was fine.”

Bryce nodded. “It was pretty bad, huh?”

She took a breath. “Yeah. Yeah, it was pretty bad. Throat was slit and then he got strung up to the Spirit of St. Louis.”

“That's brutal.”

“Yeah.”

“You okay with the wedding being moved up?” 

Jo quirked an eyebrow at him. “Why do you care? This mornin’ you were bemoanin’ my existence, now you’re all nice?”

“Things are getting serious,” Bryce said. “We’re in this together, and we both wanna get this job done. Let’s do it right, and watch each others’ backs.”

She looked at him appraisingly before handing him a clean dish to dry. “Yeah. Okay.”

He took it and grinned a little to himself. “I mean who wouldn’t wanna watch your back? It’s very nice.”

Jo blinked and turned to him, not saying anything, and he gave her a boyish grin.

She glowered, before lifting up the detachable faucet and pulling it out, shifting the setting so it sprayed him in the face.

Bryce yelped and jumped back, laughing.

Jo gave a laugh too, and hosed him down just a little more before turning the sink off and replacing the faucet. “You had that com-“

Before she could finish, Bryce had lifted the dish towel and swatted her in the ass with it so it make a loud crack in the air. She yelped. “You are dead, Larkin!”

“Gotta catch me first,” he grinned impishly, before stepping away from her toward the stairs.

Jo gave chase, as Bryce booked it up to the second floor and into his room, tripping over a small stack of paperwork on the floor, making it easier for Jo to catch him. He turned around just in time for her to run into him, sending him sprawling on the bed, with Jo landing on top of him.

Silence filled the room as they stared at each other, both breathing hard from running.

“You got me,” Bryce said finally, his voice a little deeper than normal. “What are you gonna do with me?”

Jo didn’t get a chance to say anything before Bryce’ phone rang. He couldn’t help feeling a little disappointed. When he pulled it from his pocket, it was playing that damn Edvard Grieg piano concerto that his mother (and he, at that very moment) hated so much.

“Hello, Mother,” he said, clearing his throat.

Jo grinned a little and got to her feet, stepping out of his room.

More disappointment filled Bryce as his mother rattled off pointless wedding details he didn’t care about.

“Are you even listening to me?” his mother asked as Bryce stared at the doorway.

“Not really,” Bryce admitted. “Mother, we’ll talk tomorrow, alright?”

There was a cold pause between them before Emily spoke again. “Fine. Tomorrow.”

She hung up and Bryce sighed heavily, tossing the phone down, and closing his eyes, before picking up his phone again and dialing.

“House of pancakes!”

“I wish,” Bryce grinned as his sister answered the phone.

“I’m sorry, this…this voice that I’m hearing is too far in the past for me to place, could this possibly be my baby brother on the phone?” Lorelai Gilmore asked.

“Good guess.”

“Oh, my god. How are you? How’s DC? How crazy is Mom driving you?”

“I’m fine. Good. And very,” Bryce replied in order. “But that’s actually not why I called.”

“Uh-oh. More love life woes, huh?” Lorelai teased. “Are you sleeping with your college roommate again? Because I already told you that it’s okay. You just love everybody.”

Bryce huffed and rubbed his face. “That is not why I called, either.”

“Ooh, should I keep guessing?”

“I nearly kissed the agent I’m partnered up with,” Bryce admitted, taking a deep breath. “And I have to pretend to marry her next weekend.”

“next weekend?!” Lorelai cried. “What do you mean this weekend?! I thought I had more time to dress shop!”

“It’s moved up,” Bryce said. “That’s not the point.”

“It is the point,” Lorelai argued. “I was gonna come! I was gonna buy a pretty dress and pretend to cry and pretend to get drunk at the reception.”

“Pretend?”

“Okay, maybe I was planning on getting a little drunk at the reception.”

“Yeah.”

“Okay,” Lorelai grinned. “So you nearly kissed your partner.”

“Yeah.”

“Cause she’s pretty, or because you have a thing for her?” Lorelai asked, finally getting serious.

“Well, she is pretty, and…when we met she drove me crazy, but I…”

“What does mom think of her?”

“That’d be two thumbs down from mom,” Bryce said.

“Ooh. Interesting. So she’s pretty, she drives you nuts and you have a thing for her and mom thinks she’s…”

“A heathen.”

“Bonus. What’s the problem here?”

He didn’t answer. He didn’t say that he hadn’t really felt any romantic feelings for anyone since he was with Sarah, before sending Chuck the Intersect, or that it was incredibly hard to trust someone when you spend your whole life lying, and expect the people around you to do the same.

He didn’t have to.

“Oh kid,” Lorelai said sympathetically. “You gotta take some chances that don’t involve getting shot or jumping off of buildings.”

He paused for a long moment and then nodded. “You’re right. You’re right.” 

“Of course I am, I’m your sister.” 

Bryce grinned a little as he sat up. “Thanks, Lorelai. Gotta go.” 

“Go get ‘em, kid.” 

He hung up and, bolstered by his sister’s words, he pulled himself up from the bed and took a deep breath before crossing the tiny hallway to Jo’s room.

He was about to tap on the door, but it opened before he got the chance and suddenly they were face to face.

“Hi,” he breathed out.

She nodded without meeting his eyes.

“Jo…”

She glanced up at him, and Bryce found himself leaning closer to her, his lips inches from hers, ready to move in. His eyes closed as he breathed her in, but she pulled back a little, putting a hand on his chest.

“We shouldn’t.”

He took a breath and then looked down. “Because you don’t want to or because we’re working?” he asked.

“Second one.” He’d never heard her voice that gentle, or seen her look so vulnerable. “Ain’t that I don’t wanna…”

Bryce nodded and rubbed his eyes. “No, you’re right. You’re right. I just…before…”

“I know.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Ain’t nothing to be sorry about,” Jo said. “We should probably call it a night. The rest of the dishes can wait til morning.”

He gave another nod and rubbed at his hair. “Right. Yeah. Goodnight, Jo.”

“G’night, Bryce.”

He stood there, rooted to the spot for a long moment, and then turned and headed back to his room.

Jo watched him, and watched the door across the hallway close, before taking a deep breathing and closing her own. She slumped against it and crossed her arms.

*****

Jo took a deep breath as they stepped into the Carnegie Library. It was beautiful. The marble tiles underneath her feet gleaned and her heels (god help her she was wearing heels) echoed as they connected with them. Two winding staircases, also marble with dark wooden railings jutted out on either side of the entryway.

Bryce looked around, eyes just as wide as Jo’s. “Mother.”

“Amazing, isn’t it?” Emily said, obviously, pleased. “I had to have a couple of other parties relocated, but it was worth it. We can have the ceremony here on the first floor, and hold the reception upstairs.”

“Mother,” Bryce repeated, looking at her. “How much is this going to cost?”

“Never you mind,” she waved a hand. “Come with me, I’ve got mock-ups of the centerpieces and the table settings upstairs.”

Jo looked surprised. “Did you sleep at all last night?”

“I slept fine,” Emily grinned excitedly. “I got up early this morning, though, and got a head start. It’s a good thing there are plenty of people in this town who owe me favors.”

Bryce tried his best not to laugh. “What kinda favors?”

“Never you mind.”

“Seems to be a running theme this morning,” Bryce said as they hiked the staircase up to the second floor.

Emily led them down a cavernous hallway and under a stone archway, into a large space. “This is where we’ll hold the reception.”

“You really think Quinn is gonna go for this whole set-up?” Jo muttered to Bryce. “He made us yesterday. I think he knows exactly what’s going on.”

“Even if he does,” Bryce said softly. “And he’s not gonna be able to resist showing up. Especially if he wants the Intersect.”

“What’s he gonna do, nab Chuck, and cut it out of his brain?” Jo asked.

“Not if we catch him first.”

“Will you two stop talking shop?” Emily asked, exasperated. “We have a wedding to plan, and only a few days to do it in.” She led them to the far side of the room, where a beautifully decorated table was set up in a corner. “I was really hoping that the wedding could wait until the winter because winter weddings are so elegant, and fall has so much orange in it. But I had to make do.”

In the center of the table was a vas with what looked like a leafless tree sitting in it. Hung on its branches were white candles in little glass holders, and surrounding it were smaller vases filled with mauve and purple flowers. The table linens, plates and napkins that surrounded the centerpiece were all white.

"Wow, Mom," Bryce said, gaping at the table. "That's amazing work for less than a day." 

Emily looked mildly smug as she stood by her handiwork. “Yes, well. I did the best I could with such a tiny budget.” She kept walking past the table and then headed toward a long buffet table, with plates of elaborate-looking food lined up on its surface. “Now. Menu.” She turned to Bryce and Jo. “Bryce isn’t allergic to anything that I remember, Joanna, what about you?”

“Now I’m Joanna?” Jo asked, quirking an eyebrow.

Bryce gave a small smirk and nudged her playfully. “Answer the question.”

“I’m not allergic to anything,” Jo replied. “I mean when I first met him I thought maybe I was allergic to your son, but lookin’ back that was just a case of the sniffles.”

Bryce tried valiantly to keep a straight face as he watched his mother’s face turn to a look of complete confusion.

“Better out than in, Larkin,” Jo muttered, and he finally laughed, bowing his head.

“Bryce!” Emily cried. “Take this seriously. You are getting married in one week. We have one week. Do you even have a tuxedo picked out? Or shoes? This is serious!” 

“What can I say?” Bryce said, gaining a little composure. “My fiancé is funny.”

Jo grinned a little. “So, what kinda food did you pick out, Emily?”

She shook her head and turned toward the table, where two older men where standing in chef whites, waiting for their food to be critiqued.

Bryce eyed the food warily, spotting a roasted pheasant, and what looked like an escargot appetizer.

“No,” he said.

Emily quirked an eyebrow at him. “What do you mean no?”

“I hate escargot,” Bryce told her. “And if there’s going to be poultry on the menu, it’s gonna be fried chicken. Not pheasant.”

“We are not serving fried chicken at your wedding!” Emily cried.

“Why not? What’s wrong with fried chicken? What did it ever do to you?” asked a new voice from the entryway.

Emily’s eye twitched just a little, and she turned slowly to find her daughter standing there, grinning. “Lorelai. You’re here.”

“I caught an early train,” she said as she stepped over to them. She kissed Bryce’s cheek. “Hi, bratty brother.”

“Hi.” Bryce kissed her cheek in return, looking surprised. “Lorelai, this is my fiancé, Jo Harvelle. Jo, this is my older sister Lorelai.”

Jo nodded, and held a hand out. “Nice to meet you.”

Lorelai smiled. “Nice to meet you, too. I hope you’re keeping my brother in his toes.”

Jo smirked as she shook the older woman’s hand. “Oh, I try.”

Bryce eyed his sister warily. He hadn’t known she was going to show up, and so soon. “Sis…Why didn’t you call?”

“Because you love surprises,” Lorelai needled, and then turned to Emily. “And so does Mom. Hi, Mom. How’s it goin?”

“Fine,” Emily replied, her voice a little cold.

Lorelai gave her a sly grin. “Yeah? This is some place. And this food is so…not Bryce.”

“It’s wedding food,” Emily said.

“Snails are not wedding food, Mom. Nobody wants snails at their wedding.”

“And you would know this how?” Emily grumbled.

“You don’t have to have a wedding to know how to plan one,” Lorelai pointed out. She threw an arm around Bryce. “I could call Sookie, you know. She loves a good challenge. She’d be happy to work up a wedding menu that you’d actually eat.”

“No,” Emily snapped. “Jo said I could plan this wedding, and I am planning this wedding and we are having pheasant.”

Lorelai frowned and turned to Jo. “You said that?”

“Guilty,” Jo said sheepishly. “I don’t know a thing about planning weddings, and since Emily seemed to have so much experience…”

“You let her take the reigns,” Lorelai finished. “A risky move.”

“We can keep the pheasant,” Bryce said. “But no snails.”

Emily hesitated.

“Come on, Mom, work with him here,” Lorelai said. “Nixing the snails is a small price to pay for keeping a hold of the wedding planning.”

Jo watched this, marveling at how alike Lorelai and Bryce looked. The same light colored eyes (though apparently Bryce’s were a product of contact lenses), the same dark, wavy hair, and pale skin. Lorelai looked quite a bit older than Bryce though, and Jo wondered briefly what the age difference was between them.

“Your sister takes up the whole damn room,” she said quietly, leaning into Bryce.

Bryce nodded as he watched his sister and mother as well. “She’s definitely larger than life some days.” He absently placed a light hand on Jo’s back, and considered how natural it felt.

“Just try the snails,” Emily said, exasperated.

Jo wrinkled her nose, and Bryce smiled at her. She looked endearing, and he felt drawn to her again as he had the night before.

“I think we’re all pretty against the snails, Mother,” he said, his thumb absently running against the back of Jo’s blouse. “Couldn’t we have something different as an appetizer?"

Emily sighed heavily. “Fine. We can think of something else for an appetizer. But we’re keeping the drink.” She gestured toward a very purple drink that sat in a martini glass near the pheasant. 

Jo’s eyes widened, and she turned to Bryce. “You’re drinkin’ it.”

“Nope!” Bryce said. “No I’m not.”

“What is wrong with you two?” Emily asked. “It’s a Lavender Cosmopolitan. It matches the flowers.”

Bryce leaned even closer to Jo. “Maybe Quinn’ll kill us before the reception.” 

Lorelai tilted her head at them and grinned. “Bryce, can we talk over by the tree/candle/flower thing?”

“It’s a centerpiece,” Emily groused.

“Yeah, that,” Lorelai nodded, taking his arm and tugging him away from Jo and Emily.

Bryce frowned as he followed and faced her. “What’s up?”

“Hoping to be crowned the king and queen of personal space?” Lorelai asked.

Bryce froze and turned a vaguely red color.

“Oh,” Lorelai said sympathetically. “Oh, Bryce. You have it so bad. I had no idea.”

“Neither did I, until last night,” Bryce said softly.

Lorelai crossed her arms. “Before you called me, what actually happened last night? You were pretty vague.”

“She sprayed me with the kitchen sink.”

“That hussy!”

“Lorelai, come on.”

She eyed him for a moment quietly. “You know, you’re a lot like the kid I visited at Stanford and less like the smooth spy I accidentally ran into in Hartford two years ago.”

He sighed. “That’s not the point.”

Lorelai gave him that grin that always made Bryce feel like he had no idea what he was talking about. “You let your guard down, and now you’re falling for this girl that you have to pretend to marry in order to catch a terrorist, so you have to keep your cover your cover but you’re having a hard time not climbing each other like playground equipment.”

Bryce blinked and stayed quiet for a long moment, considering her words.

Lorelai grinned more.

“How do you do that?”

“I’m a big sister, big sisters know everything,” Lorelai smirked. “Now come on. We should get back over there before Mom tries to force feed Jo a snail.”


	11. Chapter 11

Chuck sighed as he got ready to go out to dinner. With Bryce's mother and sister in town, it was important to keep up appearances, and as best man, a big dinner with the groom's family was required. 

He fiddled with his tie a little and grimaced. It wasn't doing what he wanted it to do, and he resigned himself to waiting for Sarah to get out of the shower to help him.

A knock on the door distracted him from tugging on his shoes, and he hopped over. "Who's there?" 

"It's Bryce." 

Chuck swung the door open, and there was Bryce, wearing a nicely tailored dark blue suit, with a white shirt and a skinny black tie. 

He frowned. "Is that a tie bar?" 

Bryce sighed heavily and stepped into the hotel room. "Can't get your tie?"

"Every time I try, I feel like I have nine hands, and they all want a turn and then they start punching each other in their little hand faces," Chuck told him. "I feel awkward." 

Bryce nodded and started to adjust and knot the deep purple silk. "I got it."

"Thanks," Chuck said, looking at the shorter man. "But...y'know. You didn't just show up because your tie-sense was tingling." 

Bryce grinned a little. "No. I uh...I sort of need your help." 

Chuck's eyebrows raised. "Me? My help? You?" 

"Yup." 

"Wow. Uh...okay. Sure, buddy, what do you need?" 

Bryce took a deep breath. "Well...I took your advice," he said. "About...about changing tactics." 

Chuck nodded and started adjusting the tie a little once Bryce had finished. "That's great. How's it going?" 

"Oh...too well." 

Chuck frowned. "Too...too well?" 

Bryce blew out a breath and sat down on the edge of the bed. "I'm falling for her." 

Chuck stayed silent as he thought about this for a moment and then turned to him. "Falling for..."

"Jo," Bryce told him. "I'm falling for Jo." 

Silence again filled the room.

Chuck sat down next to him slowly and put a hand on his shoulder. "How's that goin' for you?" 

Bryce gave him a side glance. "What, no jokes?"

Chuck shook his head. "No jokes." 

"I..." Bryce rubbed his eyes. "You do realize that this is a big reason why I kept that cold hard spy front up for so long, right? Because, as my sister says, I have a weird tendency to love everybody."

Chuck just smiled. 

"So," Bryce said. "You got me into this mess, with your advice. Gonna get me out?" 

"I'm not." 

Bryce stared at him and Chuck smiled wider; a kind smile, his eye warm. 

"Quinn wants both of us, you know," Bryce said, changing the subject. "Maybe we should call off dinner tonight." 

Chuck rolled his eyes. "Okay, first, you're just freaking out about seeing Jo all dolled up." 

"Dolled up?" 

Chuck ignored him. "And second, Quinn's gonna come after us one way or another. Whether it's at the wedding, or at a restaurant, it's gonna happen. We're ready for him."

"Chuck's right," Sarah said, as she stepped out of the bathroom, wearing a wine colored, halter style cocktail dress. She leaned down to pick up her shoes and put them on, as the boys watched.

"You always did know how to wear a dress, Agent Walker," Bryce grinned flirtatiously. 

Chuck raised an unimpressed eyebrow at him.

"Much better than you ever did, Agent Larkin," Sarah shot back, without looking up from her task. 

Chuck's eyes widened as he stared at his friend. "You? When? Where? Why?"

"It was a job," Bryce said, sighing heavily. 

"A drag queen job?" Chuck asked.

Sarah giggled. "A drag queen job." 

"Are there- tell me there are pictures." 

Sarah finished putting her shoes on and smiled at him, before walking over and inspecting his tie. "Did you do this?" 

"Bryce did," Chuck told her. "Tell me more about Bryce in drag." 

"Later," Sarah smiled. "We have a dinner to get to, and I'm pretty sure Mrs. Gilmore would much rather talk wedding arrangements than about the safety orange wrap dress her son once wore." 

"Safety orange?!"

***** 

The bar of the Bombay Club was, in a word, classy. Fully stocked with alcohol, and small tables surrounded by cushy plum-colored seats with low-lighting.

Jo, even in her deep blue wrap dress, even with some under cover experience in the field, felt out of place. The bars she had tended were dives in the Midwest, and this place looked like something out of an old film.

She smoothed out the skirt of her dress and then stepped over to the bar, grinning politely at the tender behind it. "Evenin. I'll have a whiskey sour, thanks. Straight up."

The bar tender nodded and got to work, and Jo watched him carefully as he grabbed the Jack Daniels off the shelf. He knew what he was doing, thank god. She almost worried she'd have to climb over the bar and school him on how to do it, and Emily Gilmore would find her mixing drinks, when she was supposed to be here to have dinner.

As he set the drink on the bar, she nodded her thanks and set the price of the drink, plus a generous tip next to it, before picking up the glass and taking a sip.

"Pre-gaming solo?" 

Jo turned and found Lorelai Gilmore standing behind her, grinning a little. She was wearing a floral print empire waist dress with a knitted black cardigan over it. 

"Just gettin' a head start," Jo replied, mildly sheepish as she took another sip. "Takes the edge off."

"I hear ya, sister," Lorelai said, as she stepped up to the bar and smiled widely at the bar tender. "Hi, new best friend. I would love a Shirley Temple black." 

"You didn't come with your mom?" Jo asked. 

"I specifically got ready before she did so I could beat her here," Lorelai said as she paid for her drink and took a sip from the glass. "I like to head her off at the pass when I can. Especially since you and I haven't had a real chance to talk." 

Jo raised her eyebrows at the older woman. "Uh...right. Okay." 

Lorelai smiled. "Relax. I'm not here to scare you or anything. I don't think I could, even if I tried."

"Nope." 

"Look, Bryce puts on this crazy super spy act because it's easy for him," Lorelai told her. "It's an easy cover-up for his incredibly soft and gooey insides." 

Jo snorted. 

Lorelai grinned. "I'm serious. There's a reason he and Chuck were so close in college, and the difference now, is that Bryce learned how to cover up how sweet he is, and Chuck never quite managed it." 

Jo swallowed another sip of her whiskey sour. "No offence, Lorelai, but what are you tryin'a tell me?"

"That underneath all of that weird spy bluster, there's a really wonderful guy. And you should give him a chance." 

Jo blinked at her. "He told you." 

Lorelai wrinkled her nose good naturedly. "To be fair, he tells me everything. Some days I feel like Judy Jetson's talking diary." 

Jo gave a soft groan and nearly rubbed at her eye, but then remembered she was wearing mascara, and stopped. She took a breath, a drink and then shook her head. "We're working...and...look, I get what you're saying. He's been different for the last couple of days...we been getting along better and then...there was the almost-kiss, but this job keeps getting more complicated, and we can't really afford distractions." 

Lorelai pursed her lips. "So...what happens when the job is over?" 

"I don't think that far ahead," Jo told her. "What Bryce and I do is dangerous work. You never know when your number's up, so making future plans is askin' for trouble." 

Lorelai watched her quietly for a moment, and Jo could tell the older woman was feeling sorry for her. 

She drained her glass and set it on the bar gently. "I'm gonna wait outside for everybody else." 

***** 

He couldn't stop looking at her. 

That blue dress and the way her hair was swept up in a messy but elegant way. The way she smiled politely at the waiter and laughed at something Chuck had said. 

Bryce Larkin was in so much trouble. 

"Bryce, are you even listening to me?" 

He blinked and turned to his mother. "I'm sorry, did you say something?" 

"I asked what you thought of the flowers," Emily said, a little annoyed. "Or is your wedding that boring to you?" 

Bryce took a deep breath. 

Sarah frowned and gave Bryce a look that clearly asked if he was okay. 

He nodded and took a sip of wine. He hadn't expected that spending one night playing video games and eating junk food would have this effect. It was as if someone had flipped a switch and he was his old self. No more super spy Bryce Larkin. No more smooth moves or sly lines. 

Just Bryce.

"The flowers are great," he said, digging into the delicious lamb shank curry in front of him.

"So, what's planned for the bachelor and bachelorette parties?" Lorelai asked, grinning at Bryce and Jo.

Jo opened her mouth and then closed it quickly, and Bryce blinked. 

"Oh, god you haven't planned them?" Lorelai asked, aghast. 

"To be fair, it's supposed to be the maid of honor and the best man who plan them," Bryce pointed out, quirking an eyebrow at her.

Chuck gave Lorelai a look much like a deer caught in the headlights of an eighteen wheeler. "Well...y'know I...I mean things are busy." 

"We'll figure it out," Sarah promised, patting Chuck's leg gently. 

"The wedding is next week," Emily said. "If you're going to plan something you'd better hurry." She turned to Sarah then. "I know of a couple of lovely tea rooms for the bachelorette party." 

Sarah nodded politely. "As nice as that is, I was thinking maybe something a little wilder for the bachelorette party..."

"Oooh, strippers," Lorelai enthused. 

Jo groaned. "Oh, hell." 

Bryce huffed out a soft laugh. "Not into the Chip n' Dale dancers?" 

Jo quirked an eyebrow at him. "What about you? You excited for your bachelor party with all the naked ladies?" 

"Naked-" Chuck cut in. "No. No naked...no naked anything. It's gonna be us and video games and DiGiorno." 

"Wow," Lorelai marveled. "That's a little sad." 

"Or," Chuck replied. "Or it's awesome." 

Bryce grinned. "Strip clubs freak Chuck out." 

Sarah gazed at Chuck adoringly and stroked his hair. "It's okay, Baby. Strip clubs are weird." 

"So weird," Chuck agreed. 

Jo hid her amusement behind her wine glass as she took a sip and then set it down when her phone buzzed. 

“Who is it?” Sarah asked, leaning over a little.

“Casey,” Jo said, lifting the phone to read the text message that had come in. “He’s got something.”

“Then we should get going,” Bryce said.

“Nope,” Jo told him, placing a hand on his arm. “Just me. You guys stay and have fun.” She patted his arm and got to her feet.

“What, no kiss?” Bryce teased without really thinking about it.

Jo quirked an eyebrow at him as she packed her phone in her purse. “I’d just as soon kiss a Wookie.”

Bryce blinked owlishly as Jo walked off, and then turned to look at Chuck, who looked just as stunned.

*****

Jo slid into the Cown Vic. “Let’s roll.”

“You need a change of clothes before we go?” Casey asked as he sped off.

“Nope. This’ll do.”

“Dunno how you and Walker manage in those heels,” Casey grunted.

Jo grinned. “May you never have to find out. So where are we headed?” 

“Quinn’s holed up in an abandoned townhouse on H Street in Northeast,” Casey told her.

Jo nodded and pulled the gun from her purse, looking it over critically. “Inconspicuous and surrounded by good food. He’s smart, and he thinks he’s classy.”

“A little like Larkin,” Casey commented.

“Bryce ain’t so bad."

Casey raised his eyebrows. “No?” 

She shrugged and looked out and window, watching the bright lights of Northwest DC pass her by.

They sat in silence for a long moment before Casey spoke up again.

“You know agency romances don’t always end like Walker and Bartowski’s,” he said hesitantly. “And theirs hasn’t exactly been a cakewalk.”

“Nothing’s going on between us,” Jo said quietly. “We’re working.”

“You defended him,” Casey pointed out.

“He’s growin’ on me,” Jo grumbled. “Like weeds.”

“First rule of being a spy is not to fall in love,” Casey told her.

“Unless you’re Chuck and Sarah, right?” Jo said sourly.

Casey sighed as he stopped at a red light and looked at her. “Once in a blue moon it works out, but nine times outta ten it ends bloody.”

Jo raised her eyebrows at him. “And that’s different from when I was hunting…how?” 

Casey growled and started driving again when the light turned green. “Smart-ass kid. I’m trying to keep you alive.”

“Been doing that for myself for too long to need help,” Jo snapped.

“Being in love nearly got both Chuck and Sarah killed not too long ago,” Casey said harshly.

“I never said I was in love!”

“Believe me, I’ve seen it before, you’re on your way there,” Casey grumbled.

She crossed her arms and looked out the window, as he turned the corner and parked the car.

“We’re walkin’ the rest of the way.”

It was a few minutes before Casey stopped in front of a long-abandoned townhouse; its windows were boarded up and the grass in the small front yard was long and ragged. There was a screen door falling off its hinged, and Jo could see a rat or two hiding out near the rotting fence.

“Well, it ain’t the worst place I ever seen,” Jo said. “But it’s close.”

“Not afraid of rats, I hope,” Casey said as he stepped over the low fence and into the yard, before turning and helping Jo.

She shook her head. “Nope. Rats don’t bother me.” She looked up at the house and frowned. “You think this place is structurally sound?”

“Probably not,” Casey said as he took a few careful steps up the front porch, pulling his gun.

Jo followed suit, gun at the ready. “This seem a little easy to you?”

Casey grunted and glanced back at her. “That’s why we brought guns.” He pushed the screen door aside and it gave a tinny wale that sounded louder than it probably was.

Jo stepped into the townhouse after him, and squinted in the darkness. She could see holes in the walls, and rotted spots on the hardwood floors.

Casey pulled a mag light out and clicked it on, squinting in the suddenly bright light ahead of them. “This what it was like back when you were hunting?” he asked.

“Pretty much,” Jo muttered, as they stepped into the kitchen, causing rodents and vermin to run for cover. “I don’t think Quinn’s here, Casey. Ain’t no sign of him at all.”

Casey narrowed his eyes and moved further into the kitchen, shining the flashlight on a door shut tightly with a padlock and chain. He grunted and stepped up to it.

“Okay, this has trap written all over it,” Jo said, stepping over with her gun raised.

He grinned a little. “I like a good trap.” He lifted his own gun and shot the lock off before nudging the splintered door open with his foot. He aimed the flashlight inside, shining a light onto a narrow, flimsy-looking staircase.

“Me first,” Jo said quietly as she shifted past him. “I’m less likely to break the stairs.”

Casey followed her down slowly, shining the flashlight out in front of them, revealing mouse excrement and dead roaches. He grunted in disgust, making Jo smirk back at him. 

“Gettin’ squeamish on me, Colonel?”

He glowered. “Shut up and keep moving.”

Jo stepped down into the basement, her heels hitting solid concrete with a clacking sound. She raised her gun, and squinted again as the flashlight lit up the cavernous room, filled with old medical instruments, a couple of recently-used computers, and a generously sized weapons cache.

“This is definitely it,” Casey muttered, glancing down at the surgical tools. “I’m guessin’ these were gonna be for Bartowski.”

“You’d be right, Colonel.”

Jo swung around, gun at the ready. She hadn’t heard anyone walk in behind them, and it was too dark to see.

“Hands up!” she cried.

“Harvelle!” Casey snapped, but it was too late.

She heard two cracks then, and something attached to her neck. The jolt hit her before she could react, and she hit the floor just as Casey did.

The last thing Jo saw before the world went dark was Quinn standing over her.


	12. Chapter 12

“I’m getting worried,” Bryce said as he paced the length of the living room.

“And I’m getting dizzy,” Chuck told him. “Casey and Jo can handle themselves. I’m sure they’ll check in soon.”

“And what if they don’t?” Bryce asked, stopping to look at him.

“Then the three of us will go after them,” Sarah said as she handed Bryce a cup of coffee.

Bryce sighed and held the cup tightly. “We should have gone with them.”

“Too many cooks in the kitchen,” Chuck pointed out. “I don’t know about you, but the five us on a raid together sounds a little disastrous.”

“I do think it’s very sweet how concerned you are,” Sarah said teasingly as she sat next to him.

Chuck grinned widely at Bryce and then turned to her, widening his eyes emphatically.

Sarah blinked and then looked back at Bryce. “Really?”

Bryce frowned. “Dammit, Chuck.”

“Sorry, buddy,” Chuck shrugged. “Even if I tried to keep it from Sarah, she’d find out. I’ve learned it’s just best to tell her everything. It saves time.”

Bryce rolled his eyes and sipped his coffee. “I don’t know why Beckman didn’t just assign the two of you to get married…”

“Because Cameron James didn’t want us,” Sarah said. “He wanted you.”

“We should go after them,” Bryce said, switching the subject back.

“Casey doesn’t like to be rescued,” Chuck pointed out. “Especially when he doesn’t need to be.”

“Do we even know where they went?” Bryce asked.

“I have an address,” Sarah said. “It’s on H Street. Casey said it’s abandoned and it’s a good bet Quinn’s there.”

Bryce nodded. “And we stayed behind because…?”

Chuck grinned, amused. “Because Jo told you to back down, and you listened. Because you want Jo snuggles.”

Bryce glared at him.

*****

When she came too she hadn’t left the basement. The only difference was that she was tied to a chair.

Jo groaned and shook her head out a little. “Casey?” she croaked out. That taser had hit her harder than she thought it would. She got no response from Casey, though and she squinted as her blurry sight cleared. A light had been turned on, and Quinn was standing in front of her.

“Welcome back to the land of the lucid, Agent Harvelle.”

“Gee, thanks,” Jo muttered, glowering up at him. “I get a gift basket, too?”

“Very droll,” Quinn grinned. “I see why Agent Larkin is marrying you. You’re feisty.”

Jo narrowed her eyes. “Where’s Casey?”

“Oh, he’s around,” Quinn waved a hand. “It’s you I’m interested.”

 “That right?”

“Oh, yes,” Quinn nodded, kneeling down in front of her. “You see, I planted this little trap for Larkin and Bartowski.”

“Shocker.”

“I was going to kill Larkin very, very slowly,” Quinn told her, ignoring her jab. “And then I was going to extract the Intersect from Bartowski.” He waved a pair of sunglasses at her. “And then play with his brain a little before I let him die.”

“Cause that’s the most original thing I ever heard,” Jo muttered.

“It may not be inventive, but it would have been effective,” Quinn said. He stroked her hair back and she jerked away from his touch. “But you…you’re a little prize, because killing you would hurt Larkin much worse than just outright slitting his throat.”  

She struggled back, growling, but stopped when her phone rang.

Quinn smirked and lifted her cell phone out of the bag she’d had with her, and looked down at it. “Ah.” He stood up and answered the call and put it on speaker. “Agent Larkin. How lovely to hear from you.”

“Quinn,” Bryce grated out. “Where’s Jo?”

“Oh, she’s right here,” Quinn told him, lifting the phone up to her. “Say hello, Joanna.”

“I’m okay, Bryce,” Jo said. “Just tied up.”

“Just tied up?” Bryce snapped, panic in his voice. “JUST tied up? Great! Good, you’re just tied up!”

“Now is not that time to impersonate Bartowski,” Jo told him harshly.

“Where’s Casey?” Bryce asked.

Jo looked around the basement and finally spotted Casey’s prone body on one of the large workbenches. “What’d you do to him?”

“Oh not much,” Quinn shrugged. “Gave him a couple of elephant tranquilizers. Just to take the edge off.”

“What do you want, Quinn?” Bryce asked.

Quinn considered this for a moment before answering. "The intersect. A million dollars. And your head on a stick."

“I’m not giving you the first two,” Bryce told him. “But I’m willing to let you try for the third.”

Jo groaned. “Dammit, Larkin.”

“Isn’t that sweet?” Quinn mocked. “The little woman showing concern for her hubby-to-be.”

Jo glowered again and lunged forward, taking the chair with her, nearly tipping it over. Quinn gripped the back of it, keeping it upright.

“Be here in less than an hour, or I gut the girl like a fish.”

“I’d like to see you try!” Jo spat out.

Quinn smirked. “I can arrange that. One hour, Bryce.” He hung up the phone and dropped it onto the ground before slamming his foot down on it hard, causing a loud crack to echo through the basement.

*****

“There’s no way you’re going alone,” Chuck said as he stormed down the front steps of the row house after Bryce.

Bryce turned sharply to stare up at him. “Yeah, I am.”

“Bryce-“

“He wants both of us,” Bryce snapped. “And I’m not giving him you. So go back in there, and monitor me from here. I’ll have my ear piece in, we’ll be able to talk.”

“This is suicide!” Chuck cried.

“So was exposing yourself to Volkoff to try and rescue your mother. Did you hesitate?”

Chuck stared at him for a long moment. “You really care about her.”

“I don’t have time for this,” Bryce said as he headed for his car. “I’ve got less than an hour.”

“We,” Sarah said as she pushed past Chuck. 

Bryce groaned. “Sarah-“

“She’s my sister,” Sarah snapped. “Get in the car, Bryce. I’m driving.” She turned to Chuck. “Monitor our progress from here, Chuck.”

Chuck hesitated. “Sarah…”

“Chuck, the man wants to slice open your brain and poke it with a stick,” Bryce said. “You’re not coming.”

“He wants to slit your throat and you’re going!” Chuck cried.

“I’m okay with that,” Bryce said. “It’s nothing new.”

Sarah dashed back over to Chuck and kissed him briefly. “We’ll be in touch, and we’ll call for help if we need it.”

Chuck frowned again, but nodded. “Okay. Okay. Be careful. I love you.”

She grinned a little. “I love you too.

Chuck watched them climb into the car and speed off, before stalking back into the row house to set up base camp.

*****

“You should have let me do this alone,” Bryce said as they got out of the car in front of the dilapidated townhouse.

Sarah rolled her eyes as she let the way up the front walk. “You would have gotten yourself, and probably Jo and Casey killed. So no, I shouldn’t have let you come alone, Bryce.”

“Why do you think I suddenly need help?” Bryce asked, as he pulled a gun from the back of his pants and checked it out.

“You always needed help,” Sarah told him quietly as she eased the front door open, her own gun at the ready. “Especially now, when your judgment is clouded.”

“My judgment is fine,” Bryce hissed.

“Quinn is after you,” Sarah argued in a whisper. “And you are falling for my sister, so no. Your judgment is not fine. Now shut up and follow my lead.”

Bryce huffed, obviously annoyed and followed her inside, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness.

“Bryce, here.”

He turned and found Sarah aiming her flashlight at a ruined door.

“Yeah, that’s promising,” he muttered, pushing the door open with his gun. It was dark and the stairs looked like they could give at any moment. 

“Surprised Casey made it down there without putting his foot through,” Sarah said.

“We don’t know that,” Bryce replied. He gave Sarah a grim look. “Cover me.”

She nodded and let him move toward the stairs first, before following him slowly. She pointed her flashlight ahead of them. “I have a plan."

“Oh?”

Sarah nodded. “We grab Jo and Casey, blow the hot water heater, and then make a run for it.” 

Bryce frowned, but didn’t turn around. “How much Mythbusters has Chuck made you watch?”

“A lot,” Chuck's voice whispered from behind them. “A whole lot.”

Sarah gasped softly and jerked around. “Chuck!” she hissed. “We told you to stay behind!”

He shrugged. “Which worked on lowly Nerd Herd supervisor Chuck, but not so much on Agent Chuck Bartowski. Remember? Full spy now? I feel like you forget sometimes.”

“He wants you dead!” Bryce whispered.

“Yes, he does,” Chuck nodded. “And he wants you dead, too. Look, Sarah had a good plan,” Chuck whispered hurriedly. “You two deal with Quinn, I’ll doctor the hot water heater. We’ll have to run fast, though.”

“We’ll make it work,” Sarah said.

Bryce took a breath and called down. “Quinn?!”

“Agent Larkin!” Quinn called back. “Lovely of you to join us!”

“Let them go, Quinn, this is between you and me.”

“I don’t suppose you brought agent Bartowski with you!” Quinn asked.

“You’re not getting the Intersect, Quinn!” Sarah snapped, giving a pointed look to Chuck. “He’s not here!”

“Then I’m afraid I can’t let the Colonel and Agent Harvelle go! You’ll have to come down and face me!”

The three of them slowly inched down the stairs. Bryce led Sarah to the left when they reached the concrete floor to face Quinn, while Chuck quickly and quietly ducked to the   
right, heading for the hot water heater and crouching down next to it.

“You got me,” Bryce said, staring Quinn in the face. “Now let Harvelle and Casey go.” He gave a quick glance to Casey, who looked like he was just starting to come to, and then to Jo, who was tied to a chair; her nose was bleeding, and she clearly had a black eye.

“Ooh, you really think it’ll be that easy?” Quinn asked, inspecting the knife he held in his hands. It glinted in the dim light.

Bryce shook his head. “What do you think is gonna happen here, Quinn? A wild west-style showdown? Thirty paces? There’s not even enough room down here for thirty paces.”

“Good, good, good,” Chuck whispered into his comm. “Keep him busy, I’ve got the safeties plugged up, and-“

Quinn dropped the knife and drew his gun from his pants, aiming it at Bryce. “Say goodbye, Bryce.”

Sarah drew her own gun and cocked it. “Drop it, Quinn.”

Quinn chuckled then and slowly shifted the gun from Bryce to settle against the side of Jo’s head.

“I said drop it,” Sarah growled.

“Quinn, don’t,” Bryce snapped. “Don’t!”

Jo, for her part, looked completely unphased by this turn of events. “Really?” she asked, glancing up at him. “You’re really this desperate?”

“Shut up,” Quinn spat.

“Pressure is building,” Chuck whispered into the comms. “But I don’t know if it’s gonna be able to build fast enough…”

“You’re a sick, sad, crazy man, Nicholas Quinn,” Jo said. “You don’t even know what you’re doin’ anymore, do you? Luring us here for a big stand-off. I have seen some sloppy operations in my time, but this one might take the damn cake. And that is saying something. I know Dean Winchester.”

“Shut up,” Quinn snarled, pressing the gun harder against her head.

Before he could pull the trigger, Jo kicked up across her body, her heel hitting his wrist.

The gun went off and both Sarah and Bryce ducked. Chuck yelped when the bullet connected to the hot water heater he was working on.

“What the hell was that?!” Quinn yelled, shoving at Jo’s chair, tipping it over.

“Well, there goes plan A,” Chuck said, getting to his feet. “Plan A is officially busted.”

Bryce got to his feet, blocking Quinn’s path toward Chuck. “Don’t move, Quinn.”

Sarah got up too and frowned. “I smell gas.”

“That would be because Quinn hit the gas supply line to the hot water heater,” Chuck told them.

Quinn stared around at all of them before backing toward the cellar door that led outside.

“Don’t move,” Bryce snapped, raising his gun.

“Are you nuts?!” Sarah cried. “You can’t shoot in here when there’s a gas leak!”

“Quinn is getting away!” Bryce yelled as he stalked after Quinn, who was scrambling out the door.

“We have bigger problems to worry about,” Chuck said, dashing over and untying Jo.

She got to her feet and stumbles a little, before Bryce dashed forward and helped steady her.

“Gimme your gun,” she said. “You all get Casey outta here, I can get another shot in and blow the place. Make sure Quinn don’t got a place to come back to.”

“No way,” Sarah snapped. “You are not staying behind.”

Jo glowered at her. “Gimme the gun, Bryce.”

“Don’t give it to her,” Sarah ordered. “Get her out of here. Chuck! Get Casey, I’ll get the shot in and be right behind you.”

Chuck’s eyes widened. “Sarah.”

She turned to him and kissed him for a long moment before pulling back. “Go.”

He nodded grimly and dashed after to Casey, helping him to his feet. “Come on, Buddy, we gotta go.”

Casey groaned, still mostly out of it from the tranqs.

Bryce lifted Jo into his arms and she struggled a little.

“Sarah-“

“I’ll be right behind you,” Sarah said. She glanced back at Jo. “I wasn’t there for you and Ellen and the boys when you needed me, but I’m sure as hell here now.” She waited until all of them were out the cellar door, before backing up to the door, aiming, and firing.

She scrambled out and up the stone steps, just as the blast hit and carried her and the rest of them ten feet from the now-exploded townhouse. Sarah hit the grass hard with a grunt, her shoulder hitting first; not hard enough to break anything, but she predicted some colorful bruises in her future.

“Everybody okay?” Chuck asked, sitting up slowly. He was speaking loudly, probably because of the ringing in his ears.

“We’re good!” Bryce called, just as Casey gave out a groan.

Chuck nodded and turned to Sarah, his eyes worried. “Okay, Baby?”

She nodded and sat up slowly. “Remind me never to do that again.”

“Be careful what you wish for,” Chuck told her. “You might wake up to my reminding you not to spark off an explosion in a room full of gas every morning for the rest of your life." 

“That doesn’t sound so terrible,” Sarah admitted.

“Good, because I know I promised you the most romantic date of your life for this moment, but I’m thinking getting out of this one alive works just as well,” Chuck said. He scooted closer to her, taking her hands in his. “Will you marry me?”

Sarah laughed a little and nodded. “Yes,” she said, before pulling him in for a kiss.

“Quinn got away,” Jo said, attempting to get to her feet. “We should call this in.”

Bryce sat up and took her by the arm. “Not so fast.”

“I’m fine,” she told him, yanking her arm away.

“Jo,” he said softly. “Jo, just…stop for a second.” He pulled her in close. “Just stop.”

She inhaled sharply as he leaned in for a slow kiss, and her fingers grabbed onto his jacket.

Casey came too and when his vision cleared, he could see Bartowski and Walker, and Larkin and Harvelle lip-locking in the light of the flaming, exploded townhouse. He gave a grunt of disgust, and slumped back on the grass.


	13. Chapter 13

"Good work, team."

"Good work?" Jo snapped, as she shoved at a medic who was attempting to check over her wounds. "Quinn got away."

"Also, we blew up a house," Chuck pointed out.

The five of them were still sitting in the grass while Beckman stood in front of them. She'd brought medics with her to check them over and a clean-up crew to deal with the flaming townhouse.  
   
"Maybe so," the General said. "But Quinn no longer has a base of operations. He can't hide forever. We'll find him."  
   
"What's our next move?" Sarah asked. Her hand was still entwined with Chuck's as  
she let one of the medics patch up a cut on her forehead.  
   
"We stay the course," Beckman told them. "The wedding is still on. If anything is going to draw Quinn out, it's that. He's clearly desperate."  
   
"This whole thing seemed sloppy," Casey said. "He threw this together. I don't think killing Cameron James was his original plan."  
   
"James probably got cold feet," Bryce said. "Quinn had to improvise after getting rid of his own point man."  
   
"Yeah, well, he sucks at it," Jo grumbled. "And that's why we're gonna get him."  
   
*****  
   
There was a knock on the door early the next morning and Jo shuffled over in her bare feet over to answer it. She was moving slow from being held hostage the night before, her right eye a deep shade of purple, and her body ached all over from being tased.  
   
When she opened the door, she found Bobby Singer standing there, looking the way he always did, with his faded plaid shirt and vest combo and jeans; his scruffy beard and trucker hat.  
   
Jo huffed and grinned at him. “You said you weren’t comin’.”  
   
“Sare said you might need a little backup,” Bobby said, looking her over. “Judgin’ by that eye, she wasn’t wrong.”  
   
She stepped aside to let him in. “Thanks for coming.”  
   
“You look like hell,” he told her.  
   
“It don’t feel fantastic either,” Jo said.  
   
Bobby sighed. “C’mon, girl, bring it in.” He wrapped his arms around her, hugging her tightly. “You look like you could use one of these.”  
   
“Gone all psychic on me?” Jo asked as she hugged him back, resting her head on his shoulder.  
   
“Please, I don’t need to be psychic to read you kids like books.”  
   
She pulled back and pushed her messy hair away from her eyes. “I’d give you the full tour but Bryce is still sleepin’ upstairs.”  
   
“Yeah?” Bobby asked, quirking an eyebrow at her. “He snore?”  
   
“Wouldn’t know,” Jo said. “Ain’t sharin’ a bed with him.”  
   
“Yet.”  
   
Jo raised her eyebrows.  
   
“Sarah mentioned you two been gettin’ cozy,” Bobby said.  
   
“Not that cozy,” Jo muttered quietly, looking down.  
   
Bobby blew out a breath. “All those hunters hangin’ around the Roadhouse, they thought they were tough, but they had nothin’ on the skinny blonde behind the bar.”  
   
Jo grinned wryly. “You want coffee?”  
   
“Yeah.” He followed her back to the kitchen and watched her pour the dark liquid into a mug. “How do you feel about this guy?”  
   
“Hm?”  
   
“Bryce. The pretty boy. I met him, you know. A couple times. Last time I saw him he got possessed by Meg.”  
   
Jo handed him the mug and couldn’t help a little laugh. “Somethin’ else to tease him about.”  
   
“Dodging the question.”  
   
Jo shrugged. “I dunno, he drove me nuts when we first met. But hell if he ain’t handsome and charming.”  
   
“Ain’t the typical guy you go for,” Bobby commented. “I remember right, you usually like ‘em rough and tumble.”  
   
Jo wrinkled her nose at him. “Are we really gonna have girl talk?”  
   
“Well, you’re not talking to Sare about any of this…”  
   
“Haven’t had time,” Jo said, sipping her coffee. “I’m working.”  
   
Bobby gave her a disbelieving look. “That’s your excuse? Really?”  
   
Jo leaned heavily back onto the kitchen counter, holding her mug tightly.  
   
“You and Dean, I knew you were both gonna have a hard time getting past the Apocalypse,” Bobby said. “But I never in a million years thought he’d move on before you.”  
   
Jo snorted softly.  
   
Bobby set his mug down and gently put his hands on her shoulders. “You gotta let yourself feel something other than regret, Jo.”  
   
Silence filled the kitchen for a long moment before Jo spoke up again.  
   
“Shoulda been me,” she said. “I was stupid. I got clawed up, and she was fine, and it shoulda been me.”  
   
“You really think Ellen coulda lived with herself if she left you there?” Bobby asked. “Jo, you’re so damn young, still. You got so much life ahead of you.”  
   
Jo wiped at her eyes a little, still holding her mug close to her, but didn’t say anything.  
   
Bobby reached out and rubbed her shoulder gently. “You and I both know that all she wanted was for you to live. Why she fought so hard against you huntin’, and why she forced the boys to carry you out. So you could live. And if you don’t start actually livin, she’s gonna come back and haunt your ass; nag you til you do what she says.”  
   
She laughed a little. “Don’t know if that would be so bad.”  
   
“Don’t you start,” Bobby said warningly. “It’s bad enough Dean hears Sammy’s voice in his head every other day.”  
   
Jo quirked an eyebrow at him. “And you’re tellin’ me he’s moved on?”  
   
“More’n you have.” He took a sip of coffee.  
   
She nodded and drank some of her own coffee. “You stayin’ at the same hotel as Chuck and Sarah?”  
   
“God, yes,” Bobby chuckled. “Any chance I get to see Sare, and simultaneously embarrass the hell out of her in front of her boyfriend, I’ll take. I even brought baby photos.”  
   
“Chuck’s gonna die from happiness,” Jo smirked.  
   
“Don’t think I didn’t bring yours, Joanna Beth.”  
   
Her smirk fell. “Don’t you dare.”  
   
“Don’t he dare what?” Bryce asked as he walked down the back staircase and into the kitchen. “Tell me there’s more coffee.”  
   
Jo took a breath as she watched him wander over to the coffee maker and pull a mug from the cabinet above. He was wearing a thin t-shirt and pajamas bottoms, his dark hair messy. She could see the muscles on his back move as he stepped over to the coffeemaker. “Uh…Bryce, you remember Bobby…”  
   
Bryce nodded as he poured himself the coffee and then turned to them. “Yes, I do. The last time I saw him, he was throwing us out of his house.”  
   
“Uh-huh,” Bobby drawled. “And the last time I saw you, you were possessed by a demon.”  
   
Bryce rubbed his eyes and sipped the hot liquid. “Yeah, not my finest moment.”  
   
Jo grinned a little to herself. “Who’s hungry? I can make up some eggs…”  
   
“Nah, you kids look wrecked,” Bobby said, draining his mug. “And I wanna go terrorize your sister.” He ruffled Jo’s hair and set the mug in the sink. “See you later.”  
   
She watched him go and pursed her lips before turning to Bryce. “What about you? Eggs?”  
   
He sipped his coffee and watched her pull a pan from one of the cabinets, but he didn’t reply.  
   
She turned to him, frying pan in hand, raising an eyebrow. “Earth to Larkin. You want eggs or not?”  
   
“So, we’re not gonna talk about the kiss then,” Bryce confirmed.  
   
Jo stared at him.  
   
“We got in last night and you went to bed,” Bryce said. “And today, you’re offering me eggs.”  
   
This man. This man was damn infuriating. Even when he wasn’t acting like a pompous moron, he was damn infuriating, and Jo didn’t know if it was because he was trying to make her talk about something she wasn’t sure how to discuss, or if it was because his t-shirt was so thin or because his hair was looking like…that.  
   
"So what you're sayin is, you don't want any eggs," she said.  
   
Bryce threw up his hands and turned to stalk back up the stairs.  
   
Jo groaned and dropped the pan on the counter before storming after him. "What do you want me to say? You want me to fall all over myself for you? Are we back to this crap? I am not that girl, Larkin."  
   
He turned to her abruptly. "That's not what I want!"  
   
"Then what the hell do you want?!"  
   
"I want you to kiss me again!" Bryce yelled. "What do you think I want?!"  
   
Silence filled the stairwell as they stared at each other.  
   
He wasn't wearing his contacts, and his eyes were no longer that bright, mildly unsettling shade of blue. Instead, they were a muted, pale shade of gunmetal gray, and he was squinting at her; out of frustration or out of an actual need for his contacts, she wasn't sure which. It made Jo feel as if she were talking to the real Bryce, maybe for the first time since they met.  
   
He took a breath and rubbed his face. "I want you to be honest with me about how you feel. The last couple of days, we've been getting closer, and then last night..."  
   
"You kissed me," she snapped.  
   
"Hey, I was lips, you were tongue," Bryce bit back, and then stopped, startled. "Wow, hello Farscape reference. I really am my old self."  
   
Jo huffed, frustrated, and turned around to head back to the kitchen. "Make your own damn breakfast."  
   
"Fine."  
   
"Fine!"  
   
He watched her go and then slumped against the railing. "Is arguing all you know how to do?!"  
   
She poked her head back through the archway. "I'm pretty good at shooting people."  
   
"Of course you are." He sighed heavily and followed her back into the kitchen. "I'm done arguing."  
   
"That's nice," she told him, as she lifted the pan and put it down on the stove.  
   
"That kiss was amazing," he said softly, stepping closer to her.  
   
Jo froze as she felt him stop just behind her, felt his breath on her neck.  
   
"And if you're not interested, I get it," he whispered. "That's all you have to say...but I want more. And I think you do, too."  
   
She stayed still as she felt his hands skim down her shoulders and arms; felt his lips touch the side of her neck. She let out a slow breath. “Hell with it.”  
   
Jo turned around, grabbed a fistful of t-shirt and tugged him into a kiss.  
   
Bryce let out something between a yelp and a moan as he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer.  
   
Her other hand slid into his hair as he pressed her back against the stove.  
   
"That thing on?" Bryce asked, as his hands slid up the back of her shirt.  
   
"No," she muttered against his lips.  
   
"Good." He slid his hands back down and hoisted her up onto the stove, kissing her again as Jo wrapped his legs around her.  
   
They were so caught up, they failed to hear the front door open and close.  
   
"Bryce, are you up?!"  
   
He squeezed his eyes shut in pain at the sound of his mother's voice. "Dammit, dammit, dammit."  
   
Jo couldn't help a loud snort, just as Emily wandered back into the kitchen.  
   
She stopped when she caught sight of them, quirking an eyebrow in unimpressed judgment.  
   
Bryce gave Emily an awkward nod, letting his hands slide from around Jo to her knees. "Mother."  
   
"Get dressed, please," she told them. "We have an appointment with the caterer since you turned down the snails."  
   
Bryce blew out a breath. "Yes, Mother."  
   
Emily nodded, turned on her heel and walked quickly out of the kitchen. "I'll be waiting in the car."  
   
They both stayed still until the front door opened and then slammed shut.  
   
"What the hell just happened?" Jo asked.  
   
Bryce pursed his lips. "My mother just walked in on us making out, and she pretended that she didn’t."  
   
"That a common occurrence?"  
   
Bryce nodded slowly.  
   
"Think we got time for a quickie?"  
   
Bryce shook his head regretfully.  
   
Jo sighed and hopped down from the stove, settling her hands on his shoulders and leaning up to kiss him softly.  
   
His eyes shut as he leaned into her, keeping the kiss light, and letting one hand wrap around her waist. “Is this a thing now?” he asked softly.  
   
“Hm. Could be,” she muttered against his lips.  
   
Bryce kissed her again. “C’mon, Jo. Give me something here.”  
   
“I’m givin’ you plenty,” Jo teased, smiling at him.  
   
He laughed softly. “It’s hard to argue with that.” He kissed her one more time before pulling away. “Okay. If we don’t get ready, she’s gonna come back inside, and then she’s going to actually address the fact that she walked into the kitchen to find me between your legs.”  
   
She nodded and watched him head for the back staircase. She felt lightheaded and surprisingly good about all of this, even though there was still a little part of her brain telling her that this was a terrible idea, and she should run like hell before this went any further.  
   
He glanced back at her and grinned and she mentally stomped out any thoughts of running.  
   
*****  
   
Chuck felt like a teenager, sitting in a booth at Cafe Dupont next to Sarah. Across from them sat Bobby Singer, looking fairly calm as he browsed the menu, sipping from his glass of water.  
   
This was Sarah’s father.  
   
It wasn’t as if Chuck had never met Bobby Singer before. The circumstances had been crazed and rushed and Bryce had been possessed by a demon at the time, and Bobby had pointed a shotgun at Chuck and later, thrown him out of the house, but they had met.  
   
Chuck wished he’d had more time then, to really look around, get a feel for where Sarah really grew up. Understand what her life had really been like. Maybe he could have talked to Bobby more.  
   
As it was, a year and a half later, all Chuck remembered about the house was that it had been run down and dusty, and that Bobby hadn't liked him very much.  
   
"Hell of a breakfast menu," Bobby said as he skimmed it. "You'd think they'd only have bird seed at a place like this, but they got eggs and everything."  
   
"I'm glad you approve," Sarah replied, grinning fondly. "I almost suggested Kramer Books, because it's a little less fancy, but it's a bookstore with a cafe in the back, so we would have lost Chuck the second we walked in the door."  
   
Chuck grinned sheepishly. "Well, I haven't really had a chance to check it out, so you're probably right."  
   
"Found yourself a nerd, huh, Sweet Pea?" Bobby teased. "Got tired of pretty boys like Rice?"  
   
Chuck frowned. "Who...who is Rice?"  
   
Sarah rolled her eyes. "He means Bryce."  
   
"Uh..." Chuck's frown deepened. "I guess you didn't like Bryce too much, huh?"  
   
"Nope," Bobby replied, going back to reading his menu.  
   
"To be fair, it's hard to like Bryce when he's all spied up," Chuck said lightly. "He's not always like that. Especially now that he's fallen so hard for Jo."  
   
Bobby quirked an eyebrow and slowly lowered his menu.  
   
"Not that anything happened between them," Chuck said quickly. "You know, they're  
just...working a job together. No...hanky...no hanky panky. No hanky, or panky, actually. They're both being very professional. Completely...totally..."  
   
"Sare, tell your boy to breathe," Bobby said, grinning just a little. "He looks like he might pass out. That happens at a nice place like this people are gonna notice."  
   
Sarah laughed softly and rested her hand on Chuck's arm. "Chuck."  
   
"If you were wondering if I was intimidated by you, Mr. Singer, the answer is yes," Chuck said after taking and letting out a slow breath.  
   
"Good," Bobby grinned. "I know all about Jo and the pretty boy, by the way. That's where I was before I showed up on your doorstep."  
   
"And how are the lovebirds this morning?" Sarah asked, amused.  
   
"A mess," Bobby told her. "But I ain't here to talk to you about them. I wanna talk about you and your boy here."  
   
Sarah's grin fell. "Uh...we...we're fine. We're great."  
   
"Considerin' there's a big honkin rock on your finger, I'd say so," Bobby said.  
   
She looked down at the engagement ring on her finger and then back at her father. "Uh...right. Well...Chuck asked me to marry him last night, and I said yes. So...so we're getting married."  
   
Bobby looked from one to the other. "Uh-huh."  
   
"There's no date or anything yet," Chuck said. "Obviously we've gotta finish up this mission before we can start really thinking about details. Although I do have some ideas."  
   
Sarah grinned at him and then turned back to Bobby. "We wouldn't want to steal Jo ad Bryce's thunder."  
   
Bobby couldn't help a chuckle. "Course not." He gazed at Sarah for a long, quiet moment, looking her over, seeing the changes in her from the last time he'd seen her. "You happy, Sweet Pea?"  
   
She smiled and rested her head on Chuck's shoulder. "Uh-huh."  
   
Chuck grinned and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.  
   
Bobby sighed heavily. "Well, I don't know about you two, but I'm gonna get the steak and eggs."  
   
Sarah grinned and picked up her menu just as her phone rang. She frowned and answered it, putting it on speaker. "Jo?"  
   
"Yeah, I'm gonna need a little back-up," Jo said.  
   
Sarah started to get up. "Is it Quinn?"  
   
"Nope. Emily Gilmore."  
   
Sarah froze and rolled her eyes. "You can't handle your soon-to-be mother-in-law?"  
   
"Look, we were supposed to go and pick out some food for the wedding, but she and Bryce got into it about the damn snails again."  
   
Chuck cringed, as Bobby wrinkled his nose.  
   
"The hell eats snails at a wedding?" the older man asked.  
   
Sarah sighed. "I'm on my way."  
   
"Do I need to be on Bryce duty?" Chuck asked.  
   
"Oh, no, he's holdin' his own just fine," Jo said. "He can yell with the best of 'em."  
   
"I'll be there in a few minutes," Sarah told her, before hanging up. She gave Bobby an apologetic look. "Sorry. Maid of honor duty calls."  
   
Bobby smirked. "Go on. This way I can get to know Chuck."  
   
Chuck grinned nervously. "Ha. Great. That's great. That's...how do you feel about bookstores?"  
   
*****  
It was a nice neighborhood. That was the first thing Dean Winchester noticed as he parked the Impala against the curb in Dupont Circle.  It looked historic in that way that cities often do, with its rowhouses and fading street signs.  
   
He got out of the car and sighed heavily. He would have never in his wildest dream associated Jo with a place like this; a place so damn manicured.  
   
But she was different now, just like he was different now. They had different lives and different priorities, and he couldn’t expect her to stay the same as she was. Not after everything.  
   
He pulled a slip of paper from his jeans and checked the address scribbled on it before looking up to find the right house.  
   
“They all look the same,” he grumbled to himself, before spotting the numbers emblazoned by the doors.  
   
He didn’t have to walk far to find the right one, and it helped that there was a pretty boy (Miranda, who was flying in that evening, had described the dude Jo was “marrying” as being weirdly pretty), bolting down the front steps like a bat out of hell.  
   
The guy almost ran right into him.  
   
“Sorry,” the guy, who was presumably Bryce Larkin muttered.  
   
Dean smirked. “Jo and Sare drivin’ you crazy?”  
   
“Always, but-“ Bryce started, and then stopped, staring at Dean.  
   
“You’re Bryce, right?” Dean asked. “The fiancé?”  
   
The man blinked at him, obviously caught off guard. “Uh…y-yeah. Yeah, I am. You’re…”  
   
“The big brother,” Dean replied. He held out a hand for a shake. “Dean Winchester.”  
   
Bryce gripped it firmly, shaking it. “Just be warned,” he said. “The women in that house right now are insane. Between my mother, my sister, and your sisters, it’s like Bellevue in there.”  
   
“I’m used to it,” Dean told him. “It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”  
   
“You say that now.”  
   
Dean smirked, looking amused. “You’re a wuss, aren’tcha?”  
   
Bryce frowned. “What?”  
   
“A few women in a room together make you all antsy,” Dean teased. “For some great spy, you’re kind of a pantywaist.”  
   
“Gee. Thanks.”  
   
“What, you thought I was on your side or something?” Dean asked, standing up straighter, helping him to tower over the other man a little.  
   
“I had sort of hoped for a little male solidarity,” Bryce muttered, stepping back a little.  
   
Dean chuckled. “Sorry, pal. You’re marrying my baby sister. That puts you on my shit list.”  
   
Bryce sighed heavily. “Well. Aren’t I lucky.”  
   
Dean gave him a decidedly shit-eating grin, and then headed past him up the stairs, and knocked on the door.  
   
There was something about running into Bryce Larkin that helped him to breathe easier; made the fact that he hadn’t seen his sisters in a few years a little less awkward.  
   
The door swung open, and a tall brunette answered. She frowned, tilting her head as she looked at Dean. “Mom?” she called back into the house. “Did you hire a stripper already?! The bachelorette party isn’t until tomorrow!”  
   
“What?!” someone cried from within. “Lorelai, Of course I didn’t hire a stripper! I’ve never hired a stripper in my entire life!”  
   
“A likely story,” the brunette at the door, Lorelai, grinned. She turned her attention back to Dean. “Can I help you with something?”  
   
Dean opened his mouth and then closed it in confusion. He was suddenly starting to realize why Bryce was leaving in such a hurry. “Uh…I uh…I’m lookin’ for my uh…Jo. Jo Harvelle? Or Sarah Sing-Walker…Walker.”  
   
When Jo’s face appeared over Lorelai’s shoulder, Dean lit up.  
   
“Hey!”  
   
Lorelai stepped back, and let Jo through.  
   
“Holy crap, you said you weren't coming,” Jo said, amused and somewhat delighted.  
   
“Well, hell,” Dean teased. “My baby sister’s getting’ hitched!”  
   
Jo groaned and pulled him into the row house. In the living room, Sarah sat on the couch with a redheaded older woman (presumably the one who had denied calling for a stripper).  
   
Sarah got to her feet and grinned, obviously a little nervous. “Dean.”  
   
He nodded. “Sare. Hey.”  
   
“Hi.”  
   
Jo cleared her throat and stepped in next to Dean. “Emily, this is Dean. He’s the oldest out of the four of us. Dean, this is Bryce’s mother, Emily Gilmore.”  
   
He nodded. “Mrs. Gilmore.”  
   
“Four?” Emily asked, look at the three of them. “Where’s the fourth?”  
   
Sarah took a deep breath and Dean looked down at his shoes.  
   
Lorelai stepped in then. “Mom, why don’t you and I go get some lunch. I saw a couple of really great-looking cafes, and these three clearly have a lot to catch up on.”    
   
Emily huffed as she glanced from Jo to Sarah to Dean and then got to her feet. “Alright. But we still have a lot to do.”  
   
“And it will all get done,” Jo nodded.  
   
Emily nodded back, somehow satisfied with that, and let Lorelai lead her out.  
   
When the door shut, and the three siblings were alone, they stared at each other. No one moved to sit, an nobody spoke for a long few moments.  
   
It was Sarah who finally cleared her throat. “We’re gonna need some beer.”  
   
“Screw that,” Dean replied. “We’re gonna need whiskey.”  
   
Jo considered this for a moment, and then stepped over to a small cabinet by the kitchen door.  
   
She swung it open, and pulled out a large, mostly full bottle of scotch. “We need glasses?”  
   
“No,” Sarah and Dean said in unison.  
   
*****  
   
Bryce found Chuck browsing through the new fiction section in Kramer Books and stood next to him in the cramped, but homey shop.  
   
“Hey, buddy,” Chuck muttered as he added another book to the growing pile sitting next to him, and then turned back to keep looking. “How’s the planning going?”  
   
“Probably on hold,” Bryce said quietly. “Dean’s here.”  
   
Chuck frowned. “Sarah and Jo’s brother?”  
   
“Yep.”  
   
“He came by himself?” Chuck asked, turning his attention from the books to Bryce.  
   
“Looks like it,” Bryce nodded.  
   
“Oh,” Chuck said nervously. “Oh. That’s…I’m in trouble.”  
   
“You?” Bryce snapped. “I’m the one marrying his sister.”  
   
“Yeah, but I’m the one who really is marrying his sister,” Chuck pointed out, clearly starting to panic a little.  
   
“Calm down,” Bryce said gently. “He’s not gonna hate you. Not like he hates me.”  
   
“You met him once and he already hates you?” Chuck asked, his eyes widening.  
   
Bryce quirked an eyebrow. “Do you need to be smacked?”    
   
“No,” Chuck muttered, looking down at his shoes.  
   
Bryce grinned a little and shook his head. “I’m gonna go check out the cooking section.”  
   
Chuck grinned back. “Gonna impress Jo’s brother with some fine dining?”  
   
“Bite me,” Bryce smirked.  
   
“Nope!” Chuck replied jovially. “That usually leads to things we don’t do anymore.”  
   
Bryce huffed out a laugh and walked off, through an archway into another section of the bookstore. Across from the bookshelf-lined walls was a dim bar, where he spotted Bobby, sitting quietly with a beer.  
   
Bryce waved to the older man, who nodded back in greeting. He sighed and went about looking at the cookbooks, wondering what it was he would be walking into when he got back to the rowhouse.  
   
*****  
   
The three of them were sitting on the floor in the living room, Dean leaning against a chair, and Sarah and Jo against the couch.  
   
“So let me get this straight,” Dean said, waving the whiskey bottle. “You,” he pointed to Jo. “Are pretending to get married. And you,” he pointed to Sarah. “Are actually honest-to-god engaged.”  
   
Jo nodded, snagging the bottle from his hand and taking a sip. “That’s pretty much the gist.”  
   
“What the hell!” Dean cried with a laugh.  
   
Sarah rolled her eyes and took the bottle from Jo. “I love Chuck, and we’re getting married.”  
   
Dean nodded, grinning teasingly. “Uh-huh.” He turned to Jo. “And what about you, little miss blushin’ bride?”  
   
“This blushing bride will kick you in the face,” Jo told him.  
   
Dean just smiled. “I bet you look real pretty in your big, fluffy wedding dress.”  
   
“I will kill you.”  
   
Sarah giggled and took another sip of whiskey. “She looks really, really pretty.”  
   
“Aww, our little princess,” Dean cooed, reaching over to pinch her cheek.  
   
Jo batted at his hand and then pulled the whiskey bottle away from Sarah. “This damn job is gonna be the death of me,” she grumbled.  
   
“She’s falling in love with her partner,” Sarah said in a staged whisper. “And she hates admitting it.”  
   
Dean frowned. “The pretty boy? Seriously?”  
   
Sarah nodded sagely. “The pretty boy.”  
   
“Ugh.”  
   
“Shut your piehole or I’ll give you details,” Jo warned.  
   
Dean looked horrified. “Ugh!”  
   
Sarah’s eyes widened. “There are details?! I didn’t know there were details!”  
   
“No!” Dean snapped. “No details. No details ever.”  
   
“Minor details,” Jo said, taking another sip of the whiskey.  
   
“I can’t hear this,” Dean grumbled, and grabbed the bottle from Jo, taking a generous chug.  
   
“Easy there, Dean,” Sarah said, watching him.  
   
“What about you, Dean?” Jo asked. “You bring the girlfriend with you?”  
   
He nodded and looked down at the bottle. “She just got in from a Torchwood mission in Columbia last night, so she’s coming in on a later flight.”  
   
“I thought she worked for UNIT,” Sarah said, frowning. “She and Chuck were on the same team.”  
   
“She pulls double duty,” Dean said. “Runs herself ragged cause half the time she can’t sit still. Somethin’ about being part alien.”    
   
Jo shook her head. “How’s the Torchwood job?”  
   
Dean considered this, lifting the bottle again, without taking another sip. “Not bad. I get to fix cars…rebuild alien crap…it’s pretty sweet. Also? I’ve got health insurance under my own name. Which is weird.”  
   
“Say goodbye to Hector Afraimian,” Jo smirked.  
   
“Ah, he was gettin’ old, anyways,” Dean grinned.  
   
They fell into silence after that, still passing the bottle occasionally.  
   
“We gonna talk about the elephant in the room?” Jo asked, looking from one older sibling to another.  
   
Dean shook his head. “What’s done is done. Sarah wasn’t there, she wasn’t there. No use cryin’ over it now.”  
   
Sarah looked down. “I didn’t even know it was happening,” she said quietly. “Dad kept me in the dark for all of it. I didn’t even know about the wheel chair, or the deal with Crowley. I didn’t know about Ellen or Sam until it was all said and done.”  
   
Dean watched her, a grave expression on his face. “And if you had?”  
   
“Come on, Dean, nothing could have kept me away from you guys if I knew you needed me.”  
   
“Don’t tell me you didn’t see the signs,” Dean said, his voice a little harsh. “The earthquakes, the storms. The deaths. It was the end of the world.”  
   
Sarah glared at him. “And every time I called Dad, he told me that everything was fine, and that everything was under control! He said you didn’t need my help. That I was out of the life and I should stay out.”  
   
“You coulda called me,” Dean growled. “Or Sam. Or Jo!”  
   
“And you could have called me,” Sarah snapped. “If you needed my help so desperately, where was my phone call, Dean?”  
   
He glowered at her.  
   
“You don’t get to blame Sam’s death on me,” Sarah said quietly. “Don’t put that on my shoulders.”  
   
“Believe me, I don’t blame you,” Dean told her, taking another swig from the whiskey bottle. “That’s on me.”  
   
Jo groaned and slumped against the couch. “Seriously, Winchester?”  
   
“It was my job to protect him!” Dean cried. “I had one job!”  
   
“No, Dean, you had at least ten jobs,” Jo told him, obviously weary. “Protect Sam, save the world, stay sane, fight monsters, avenge your parents, keep Crowley at bay, should I keep going, or are you gettin’ the picture, here?”  
   
Silence fell over the room again, as Sarah reached over and took the whiskey from Dean, taking a long swallow.  
   
“Sam knew,” Jo said quietly. “He knew what he was signing up for. He knew the risks. He saved the damn world. We all gotta live with that.”      
   
Neither Dean nor Sarah said anything, and Jo looked from one to the other.  
   
“And if either of you get the bright idea to try and bring him back, I will kick your asses so hard, you won’t remember your own names.”  
   
Dean quirked an eyebrow at her slowly. “You really think you could?”  
   
Sarah groaned. “Oh god, Dean, don’t say that.”  
   
“Are you challenging me?”  
   
“What if I am?”  
   
Jo smirked.  
   
*****  
   
The walk back to the rowhouse was quiet for the most part.  
   
“You an’ Jo get things straightened out?” Bobby asked.  
   
Bryce cleared his throat. “Well…mostly, I think. My mother showed up before we could really get down to business.”  
   
Chuck raised an eyebrow. “Get…get down to what now?”  
   
“And then Sarah showed up and I left,” Bryce went on, ignoring Chuck. “We’ll hash everything out later.”  
   
“Uh-huh,” Bobby muttered, his voice dry. “Sure you will.”  
   
“In the meantime, we should probably talk about the bachelor party,” Chuck said. He pulled out his phone. “I asked Morgan to join us.”  
   
“Chuck, this is an op!” Bryce cried, angrily as he stopped walking. “You can’t invite civilians!”  
   
“No worries, buddy,” Chuck told him, raising his hands in defense. “Morgan knows everything. Besides, your mom and sister are here. They’re civilians. Also I invited your dad.”  
   
“I should fire you from being my best man,” Bryce grumbled.  
   
Chuck looked hurt. “Aww, Buddy, I’m just trying to help make it look real.”  
   
“Right.”  
   
“Could be worse,” Chuck said. “I could have invited some of our old frat buddies.”  
   
Bobby rolled his eyes. “Fratboys. That explains a lot.”  
   
“Morgan hates me,” Bryce said, ignoring Bobby.  
   
“He doesn’t.”  
   
“He hated me the second he met me,” Bryce went on as they started walking again. “He thought I was stealing you away from him. And now he’s coming to my wedding.”  
   
“Phony wedding,” Bobby reminded him. “And who is this Morgan person?”  
   
Bryce sighed heavily. “Sadly, you’ll probably find out.”  
   
They reached the rowhouse, and Bryce led the way up the steps, opening up the door. He stopped short when he entered the living room. “Whoa.”  
   
On the floor in front of the couch and coffee table, which had been moved back, was Dean, laid out on his stomach.  
   
Jo was sitting on top of his back, twisting his arm backwards.  
   
“You give up?!” she cried, twisting the arm just a little harder.  
   
Dean growled. “Never, you bottle blonde hellspawn!”  
   
“Who you callin’ a bottle blonde?!”  
   
Chuck frowned deeply as he watched them, and then turned to the kitchen doorway, where  
   
Sarah was standing, holding a mostly empty bottle of whiskey.  
   
“Don’t look at me,” she said, shrugging. “I wash my hands of the whole thing.”  
   
Bobby shook his head. “Idjits.”  
 


	14. Chapter 14

“Thanks for coming with me, Lorelai,” Sarah said as they waited in front of the security gates at Reagan National Airport.  
   
Lorelai grinned and waved a hand. “It’s no problem. Congratulations, by the way, on getting engaged.”  
   
“Oh,” Sarah said sheepishly. “Thank you.” She twisted the ring around her finger a little. “I’m still getting used to wearing this thing.”  
   
Lorelai nodded. “I know the feeling.” She lifted her own hand, sporting a wedding and engagement ring combo.  
   
“Is your husband coming?” Sarah asked.  
   
“Nope,” Lorelai said. “You know, if this was a real wedding, and Bryce was really getting married, then yes. I would have dragged Luke, and bribed my daughter to fly back into the country, but under the circumstances, I think they’re better off sitting this one out.”  
   
Sarah nodded. “What kind of wedding did you have?”  
   
Lorelai smiled. “My wedding was a little bit of a circus. I live in a really small town, where everyone knows everyone else, and secrets are non-existent, so everyone was there.”  
   
Sarah smiled widely. “It sounds nice.”  
   
“It was really nice,” Lorelai nodded. “What do you want for yours?”  
   
Sarah’s smile faded a little. “I’m not really sure yet. I haven’t given it a whole lot of thought.”  
   
“That is because you, Sarah Walker, are not the marrying type,” said a thin woman with high cheekbones and long, red hair. She was wearing skinny jeans and tight, and in Lorelai's opinion, fabulous boots, as well as a fitted ski jacket. “Because you’re a deadly spy.”  
   
“Just announce it to the world, Carina,” Sarah grumbled. She sighed. “Lorelai this is Carina Miller. Carina, this is Lorelai, she’s Bryce’s sister.”  
   
“Hi,” Lorelai grinned. “It’s nice to meet you.”  
   
“Uh-huh,” Carina nodded and then turned back to Sarah. “Explain to me again why I wasn’t picked to spearhead this mission with Larkin.”  
   
"Because," Sarah said, taking Carina's arm gently. "It's not up to you, and Beckman went in a different direction."  
   
"Whatever. Let's just get the over with," Carina replied.  
   
"Somebody's pleasant," Lorelai muttered as she followed them out.  
   
*****  
   
“I don’t see why you’re nervous about this,” Emily said, crossing her arms as she watched Jo clean the living room of the rowhouse. “This Carina is your friend, isn't she?”  
   
“Yeah, friend’s not really a term I’d use,” Jo muttered as she found a stray chicken bone under the couch cushions and threw into a garbage bag.  
   
“Don’t you have any female friends aside from Sarah?” Emily asked.  
   
“Not really,” Jo replied. “Between the work I did before this, and then joining the NSA, it didn’t leave a lotta room for friends.”  
   
Emily sighed, following Jo’s movements around the room. “You’re not what I pictured for my son.”  
   
“Well, he ain’t really what I pictured for me,” Jo admitted.  
   
“Is this just a dalliance?” Emily asked.  
   
“No idea.”  
   
Emily groaned. “Please remember that I caught him between your legs yesterday morning. I’m not completely clueless.”  
   
“If you’re askin’ if I usually let men hoist me onto kitchen appliances to have their way with me the answer is no,” Jo told her. “As for what this is between the two of us, I got no clue, and to be honest, I’m not sure it’s your business.”  
   
For the next few minutes, the only sound came from the trash bag in Jo’s hand, which rustled as she moved.  
   
“You would make an excellent maid,” Emily said lightly.  
   
Jo stopped and turned to her, raising an eyebrow.  
   
“You’re very tidy,” Emily said, obviously under the impression that this would make things better.  
   
Jo rolled her eyes and kept cleaning.  
   
Bryce walked down the stairs then and grinned at them. “Mother. Jo.”  
   
“Hello, Bryce,” Emily said.  
   
“Having a nice time?” he asked.  
   
“Your mother thinks I’d make a good maid,” Jo told him, smiling thinly.  
   
Bryce blinked and then turned to Emily, tilting his head.  
   
Emily crossed her arms. “She’s very tidy.”  
   
Bryce sighed heavily.  
   
“What?!” Emily cried. “You left a chicken bone under the couch cushion! She found it!”  
   
Bryce froze. “So you’re saying she’s good for me.”  
   
“I never said that.”  
   
“She found my chicken bone in the couch so she’s perfect for me, that’s what you’re saying,” he smiled.  
   
Emily glowered. “Bryce…”  
   
His smile widened and he turned to Jo as she walked into the kitchen. “Mother thinks we’re perfect for each other. I’m pretty sure she’s just blessed our marriage.”  
   
“Oh, happy day, Honey!” Jo cried.  
   
“Thank you, Mother, this means so much to us.” Bryce said, turning back to Emily, the look on his face a mockery of sincerity.  
   
“You are not at all funny,” Emily told him.  
   
“I’m a little funny,” Bryce said.  
   
“Jo, tell him he’s not funny!” Emily called.  
   
Jo walked back out, carrying a couple of full trash bags. “He has his moments.”  
   
Bryce beamed. “I’ll take it.”  
   
Emily rolled her eyes as Jo stepped out the door with the trash. “Don’t you have something better to do?”  
   
"As a matter of fact, yes," Bryce said, watching Jo. “I have to go pick up Dad from the train station.”  
   
“I don’t know whether to be relieved that he’s coming or terrified at the thought of him having to endure all this,” Emily said.  
   
“What’s there to endure?” Bryce asked, a little venom in his voice. “After all, the woman I’m interested in would make an excellent maid.”  
   
“You’re never letting me forget that, are you?”  
   
“Nope!”  
   
Emily watched him for a moment as he checked his hair in the mirror near the door. “You’re that interested in her?”  
   
“Considering what you walked in on yesterday, I thought that might be kind of obvious,” he said. “I’ve gotta go get Dad.” He stepped out the front door and nearly bumped into Jo, who was on her way back from taking the garbage out. “Sorry!” he said automatically. “Sorry, I was just on my way out.”  
   
Jo nodded and looked down at her shoes. “Okay. See you later.”  
   
Bryce hesitated before leaning closer to her. “See you later?”  
   
She looked up at him and nodded again. “Yeah.”  
   
He grinned and leaned in just a little closer, kissing her softly.  
   
“Now that is what I call protecting a cover.”  
   
Jo pulled away from Bryce and glanced down at the bottom of the staircase, where Sarah, Lorelai, and Carina, were standing.  
   
Bryce sighed and looked upward, before stepping down the stairs. “Excuse me, ladies.”  
   
“What’s wrong, Larkin, not happy to see me?” Carina asked.  
   
“Few people ever are,” he told her, as he headed away from them.  
   
Carina smirked. “I think he just tried to hurt my feelings.”  
   
Jo shook her head and leaned against the railing. “You guys done ruinin’ a perfectly good moment?”  
   
Sarah grinned sheepishly. "Sorry, Jo."  
   
"I'm not," Carina interjected as she climbed up the steps past Jo into the house.  
   
Sarah sighed heavily. "Of course not." She gave Jo an apologetic look.  
   
Jo rolled her eyes and followed Carina inside.  
   
******  
   
“How could you not tell me?!” Morgan asked, obviously wounded.  
   
“It just sorta happened, buddy,” Chuck said, looking apologetic. “We were almost caught in an explosion and then-“  
   
They were riding the metro back to Dupont Circle from the airport, Morgan and Chuck sitting together with Casey behind them.  
   
"You were in an explosion?!" Morgan cried. "Are you okay?"  
   
"Everybody is fine," Chuck said calmly.  
   
"So?" Morgan asked, switching gears again. "When's the wedding?"  
   
Chuck grinned. "We haven't really discussed that yet."  
   
Casey grunted, amused. "And you don't wanna steal Larkin and Harvelle's thunder."  
   
Morgan's expression turned bitter at the mention of Bryce's name.  
   
“Ooh, okay,” Chuck said. “Ground rule: You gotta be nice to Bryce.”  
   
“Yeah right! When monkeys fly out of my butt!” Morgan snapped.  
   
"Buddy, we've all gotta be friends for this," Chuck told him.  
   
“No, no we don’t,” Morgan said. “We are not friends with that traitorous rat bastard.”  
   
“Except you’re here for his bachelor party and wedding, Moron,” Casey said. “So you’re gonna have to pretend.”  
   
"But it is only pretend," Morgan snapped, pointing a finger at both of them. "I do so under protest."  
   
Chuck sighed. Even before Bryce had gotten Chuck thrown out of Stanford, Morgan had disliked him, mostly out of jealousy.  
   
It was going to be a long few days.  
   
*****  
   
Bryce paced back and forth in Union Station, waiting impatiently. It had been a long time since he’d seen his father. His mother, he could handle. She chided him and picked at him and criticized, of course. But it didn’t compare to the polite, icy composure his father usually dealt him.  
   
Richard Gilmore was not particularly a warm and fuzzy man, particularly where his two children, both of whom had disappointed him, were concerned.  
   
He kept things civil.  
   
“Always civil,” Bryce muttered to himself. “Civil as an orange.” He stopped and rubbed his eyes.  “Good, Bryce. Pace in public and quote Shakespeare. That’s not psychotic at all.”  
   
“I hope I’m not interrupting.”  
   
Bryce turned to find his father standing behind him. He wore a gray suit with a nice, burgundy bowtie, and he carried a suitcase in one hand, his coat in another.  
   
“Dad.”  
   
Richard nodded. “Bryce. You look well.”  
   
Bryce looked sheepish. He knew his faded jeans and Chuck Taylors, and the button-down dark blue shirt he was wearing were hardly acceptable attire for going out in Richard Gilmore’s estimation. “Thanks. So do you. And…thank you for coming.”  
   
“Yes, well, your mother is here,” Richard said. “And as she pointed out, we rarely see you.”  
   
Bryce nodded. “Of course. Well…uh…let’s head back to the metro, and we’ll be back at the house in no time.”  
   
Richard followed him. “How are the arrangements coming along?”  
   
“Fine,” Bryce said as they headed down the escalator and into the metro station. “Now that we’ve gotten the snails off the menu.”  
   
Richard rolled his eyes. “They taste like garlic and butter.”  
   
“Food should not have pronouns,” Bryce told him.  
   
“Your sister said the same thing,” Richard grinned slightly.  
   
“Great minds.”  
   
“I suppose.” He looked around the metro station and sighed. “I don’t know why we’re not taking a taxi.”  
   
“This is faster than sitting in traffic,” Bryce said. “And taxis smell like old tobacco and feet.”  
   
“I should have hired a car,” Richard muttered as they boarded the train.  
   
*****  
By the time everyone arrived, it was evening, and it had started to turn chilly, but it was hard to tell from inside the rowhouse. The amount of warm bodies mingling, eating and drinking kept the first floor toasty.  
   
“Hi, Dad,” Lorelai said, walking up to Bryce and her parents after a long conversation with Chuck and Sarah.  
   
He nodded. “Lorelai.” Richard glanced from Emily to their two children and took a breath. “I can’t remember the last time we were all in a room together.”  
   
“Fall break, my sophomore at Stanford,” Bryce said. “Rory had just turned sixteen, and Lorelai was bemoaning salad.”  
   
“Sounds accurate,” Emily grumbled.    
   
“I suppose I should meet this girl you’re supposedly marrying,” Richard said, looking around at the other women in the room. “Which one is she?”  
   
Bryce looked over and grinned as he watched Jo attempt to force-feed Dean a carrot. “The tiny blonde who is trying to force a vegetable on her brother.”  
   
“Well, at least she understands the importance of nutrition,” Richard said wryly.  
   
Lorelai laughed a little. “Yes, we’ll never have to worry about Bryce getting scurvy.”  
   
“I eat plenty of vegetables,” Bryce defended playfully. “There’s always a celery stick in my Bloody Mary.”  
   
Emily smirked. “At least I taught you something of value.”     
   
Bryce smiled and nudged her a little. “Who wants a drink?”  
   
“I’ll take a gin and tonic, if you please,” Richard said, obviously loosening up a little.  
   
“A martini,” Emily added.  
   
“Just get me the whole bottle of vodka, and a jar of olives, I’ll be fine,” Lorelai chimed in, waving a hand.  
   
Bryce rolled his eyes. “I’ll get right on that.” He stepped away from them, headed to the make-shift bar where Chuck was mixing drinks and chatting with a petite redheaded woman with big brown eyes and a slight overbite. This was Miranda Tyler, Dean’s girlfriend and Chuck’s old UNIT buddy. “Just like old times.”   
   
Chuck grinned at him. “What’s your poison, Buddy?”  
   
“A Gin and Tonic, and three vodka martinis,” Bryce told him.  
   
“I hope those aren’t all for you,” Miranda teased.  
   
“I wish,” Bryce said. “How was your flight over?”  
   
“Uneventful,” Miranda replied. “You know how it is. No terrorists trying to bring the plane down, no aliens trying to drain the pilot of his life force, no Dean attempting to claw his own eyes out so he won’t have to watch the plane go down in flames like he thinks it will.”  
   
“He’s afraid of flying?” Bryce asked.  
   
“Deathly,” Miranda said.  
   
“Good to know,” Bryce smirked. “How are you doing?”  
   
“Oh, fine,” Miranda replied. “Watching the Dean-and-Jo show,” she gestured her glass of tonic water toward Dean and Jo, who were bantering back and forth, shoving at each other playfully, and generally putting on a show for Sarah, Carina, Morgan and Casey.  
   
Bryce watched them and grinned. “Nice to see Jo loosened up a little more.”  
   
“Apparently you have something to do with that,” Miranda said. “Dean said that Jo said the two of you are getting quite close.”    
   
“Speaking of,” Chuck said as he finished up the drinks. “Why have we not talked about this?  
   
“Wait,” Bryce said, holding up a hand to Chuck. “Jo said we were getting close?”  
   
“That’s what Dean told me she said,” Miranda grinned.  
   
Bryce smiled widely, before clumsily picking up the drinks Chuck had made. “I’ll just…you know, I don’t really even need a drink, Miranda, you can have this one, I’ll just bring these to my parents and my sister and I’ll just…”  
   
He began wandering off, passing Jo and Dean on the way, and she smiled at him.  
   
“Hey, Honey.”  
   
He looked at her, eyes wide. “Hi.”  
   
“Good lord,” Miranda muttered as she and Chuck watched. “He’s turning into you.”   
   
Chuck grinned a little. “Have I mentioned that when Bryce is totally ass-over-kettle for somebody, he tends to turn into a total dweeb?”  
   
“No,” Miranda replied, picking up the untouched martini Bryce had left behind. “It’s a bit refreshing.”  
   
Chuck lit up. “Right? You know, when we first met in college, he was this sweet guy. A little shy around girls, fun-loving.”  
   
“Soppy,” Carina added as she walked over for a refill. “Boring. Moronic.”  
   
Miranda quirked an eyebrow at the taller redhead, but said nothing.  
   
“I guess to someone who’s led a life like yours, all those things could be seen as a little unattractive,” Chuck nodded as he made Carina another long island iced tea.  
   
Emily walked up then. “We need another martini, Chuck. Bryce spilled one.”  
   
“Coming up,” Chuck nodded politely, before getting to work.  
   
“Mm,” Miranda swallowed a sip of her own martini. “Hello, Mrs. Gilmore.”  
   
Emily turned to her, looking her over and then smiling. “Miranda Tyler! I had no idea you were here.”  
   
Miranda smiled and nodded. “Dean, my boyfriend? He’s Sarah’s big brother.”  
   
“Oh, how nice,” Emily replied politely. “How are your grandparents?”  
   
“Nana Jackie and Grandpa Pete are well,” Miranda said. “They’re getting ready for a little holiday to France.”  
   
“That sounds lovely,” Emily grinned.  
   
“I love France,” Chuck chimed in. “France is great.”  
   
Carina smirked. “Did Walker put on a nice little show for you a la Moulin Rouge while you were there, Chuckles?”  
   
Chuck frowned at her, his ears turning red.  
   
Miranda cleared her throat, trying to stay polite. “Mrs. Gilmore, this is Carina Miller, one of Sarah’s friends in from out of town. Carina, this is Bryce’s mum, Emily Gilmore.”  
   
The two women looked each other up and down.  
   
“Yes, hello,” Emily said warily, before turning toward Chuck. “Three olives, please.”  
   
Carina smirked a little. “You know, your son and I had a thing a while back.”  
   
“A thing?” Emily asked, sounding bored.  
   
“Uh-huh,” Carina said. “A thing. You know. Summertime in Greece for a week, not a whole lot of clothing…very romantic.”  
   
Emily turned to her, looking her up and down again as she took the finished martini from Chuck. “He must have lost his contact lenses that week.”  
   
Chuck’s eyes widened as he watched Emily walk away.  
   
“Never underestimate high society ladies,” Miranda told Carina softly. “They will chew you up, spit you out, and make you loath everything about your lower class upbringing.”

Carina nodded slowly as she lifted the fresh long island iced tea for a long sip. “Noted.”


	15. Chapter 15

By the time the men headed out for the bachelor party, Richard and Morgan were both well on their way to being drunk.  
   
The limo Chuck had booked pulled up on the spot on 11th street and the group got out, looking around.  
   
“So what is this place, anyways?” He asked, wrinkling his nose.   
   
“You’ll see,” Chuck grinned as he led the way into the building labeled 734. They were immediately assaulted by the red and gold décor. Beyond the beautifully gilded front lobby was an equally ornate restaurant. Above the bar was a stage encased in glass holding skilled, beautiful dancers.  
   
“Oh, my,” Richard muttered, looking around.  
   
“What the hell, Bartowski?” Casey asked, looking disgruntled.  
   
“Look, if I’m going to see people in various states of undress who are not my fiancé, there had better be songs, dancing, and feathers,” Chuck told them. “This, my friends. Is a burlesque bar.”  
   
“This is awesome,” Morgan said, looking around wide-eyed.  
   
Bryce smiled. “Yeah. It really is.”  
   
“Hey!” Chuck cried jovially. “You guys agreed on something!”  
   
Bobby sighed heavily as he looked around. “Not really my usual taste.” He glanced at Dean, who was staring wide-eyed up at the glass-cased stage. “Dean.”   
   
“Busy,” Dean grunted. “Way too busy. Somebody get me a beer.”  
   
Chuck laughed softly and gripped Bryce’s shoulder. “Comin’ up.”  
   
*****  
   
Jo frowned at Sarah, who was peaking out the front door. “What are you watching for? Did you spot Quinn?”

Sarah turned to her and smirked, and Jo knew that something was amiss.

“What did you do?”

Sarah just kept smirking, before swinging open the door, where three incredibly tall, beautiful men were waiting, wearing firemen uniforms.

“It’s about to get hot in here ladies,” one of the men said, setting down the stereo he was carrying.

Jo’s eyes widened. “What. Did. You. Do.”

“It wouldn’t be a bachelorette party without a little debauchery,” Miranda said, taking Jo’s arm and gently settling her into a chair.

“Enjoy it, Harvelle,” Carina smirked. “It’s probably the closest to some touch you’ve gotten in a while.”

One of the men tugged his tear-away bright yellow pants off, revealing a zebra print thong, and Jo silently vowed revenge on her sister.

*****

Bryce walked back into the rowhouse and closed the door a little more loudly than he meant to and then slumped against it, rubbing his eyes. He was a little more buzzed than he’d like.

He sighed and then pushed himself upright, and looked around. There had clearly been a party while he was gone, and he was fairly certain there was a fireman’s hat sitting on the coffee table. He slumped down onto the couch, leaning his head back and closing his eyes.

“T-minus one day,” Jo’s voice said from the kitchen.

Bryce opened his eyes and grinned at her. She was leaning against the archway that separated the two rooms. “Ready to get married?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” she told him, walking over and sitting down next to him. “How’d the bachelor party go?”

He blew out a breath. “Oh…you know. Booze. Dancing girls. Unsolicited advice from my father, who is obviously unhappy that this isn’t real. How’d the bachelorette party turn out?”

“I got wrapped in a toilet paper dress and then grinded on by a stranger in zebra-print banana hammocks. Or thongs. I don’t even know what the difference is.”

Bryce laughed a little. “And does said stranger still have what the tiny item of clothing was protecting?”

“Mostly,” Jo grinned. She reached out hesitantly, and brushed his hair back a little.

“It wouldn’t be so bad if this was real,” he said softly, watching her carefully. “You and me.”

“Gettin’ married?” Jo asked, her fingers landing on the back of his neck. “I ain’t really the marrying kind. I don’t know if you noticed.”

“Neither am I,” Bryce said. “But it wouldn’t be so bad.”

“No,” Jo said quietly. “I guess it wouldn’t be.”

He swallowed a little nervously and gazed at her. “I think what I’m starting to feel for you is real. I’m not sure what it is yet. But I think it’s real.”

Jo gave him another grin, her fingers still stroking the nape of his neck. “You know, Casey warned me about fallin’ for you. That it wasn’t a good idea, and that it don’t end well, usually.”

“I know it doesn’t,” Bryce nodded. “I know. Believe me. But maybe it’s worth it to try, you know? See where it takes us? At least keep in touch after all this is over.” 

“NSA and CIA’ll have us in the wind as fast as they can,” Jo pointed out. “This mission was supposed to take months, and we’ve barely been here two weeks.”

“I know,” he repeated softly. “But you make me feel so different, and I’m not sure I’m ready to give that up.”  

“Different how?” she asked.

“More like a person,” he admitted. “Less like just a spy. It’s been a long time since anybody presented any sort of challenge for me.”

Jo gave a wry little smile. “All those terrorists were easy to pin down, huh?”

Bryce gave a soft huff of breath. “I meant…in my personal life. Because I haven’t really had a personal life in a long, long time. I just let the job eat me up. Even when I was with somebody, I wasn’t really with them. I was just going through the motions.”

Jo let her hand slide down his back as she sat back on the couch, looking far away. “That’s what I been doin. What I was doin. I took this job, I thought I’d still get to help people, and that would be enough. That it’d make me feel…”

“What?” he asked.

She shrugged. “I don’t know. Less guilty? It was a way to go through the motions. Kept me busy, kept me movin’, kept me from having to think about what happened.”

“What exactly did happen?” Bryce asked. “I mean…I know your mother died, and I know you feel responsible, but…”

Jo blew out a breath. “We got cornered by Hellhounds,” she told him. “I got ripped up pretty good.” She pointed to a dull, white scar on her neck that he’d never really noticed before, and then she tugged her t-shirt up a little and pointed to a matching set of ugly faded scars on her belly.

He narrowed his eyes. “That should have killed you.”

“I lasted a while,” Jo said. “Fought to keep going…but we were cornered in this hardware store. Dean’s a whiz at makeshift bombs. Makeshift lotsa things, but he’s real good at bombs, and he hooked somethin’ up. Somebody had to stay and detonate it.”

“And you were dying anyways,” Bryce said softly.

Jo nodded. “But my mom wouldn’t let me. We yelled. Well I yelled best I could yell, with all the blood I’d lost. But we argued and she got her way. Dean carried me out and…and she stayed behind. Set off the bomb. Last thing I remember the building went up, and next thing I know it’s a week later and I’m wakin’ up in a hospital, alone.”

Silence filled the room, and he watched as Jo looked away from him, pushing her hair back from her face.

“I’m sorry about your mom,” Bryce said finally. “But I’m not sorry that you’re here.” 

She grinned just a little. “Even though I drive you crazy?” 

He grinned back, moving closer to her. “You drive me crazy in so many good ways though.”

Jo laughed softly and gave his shoulder a gentle shove.  
   
“It’s true,” Bryce said, smiling at her. He took her hand in his gently and gazed at her. “And I’m just not ready to give it up.”  
   
She took a breath, gazing back at him. “Dammit, can you…can you just take the contact lenses out?”  
   
He frowned, tilting his head. “What-“  
   
“The other day, with the eggs and the stove,” she told him. “You didn’t have your contacts in.”  
   
Bryce swallowed, suddenly looking mildly nervous before pulling his hand from hers and carefully removing the contacts. He took a napkin from the pile stacked next to the fireman’s hat on the coffee table and set them down on it. He blinked and rubbed his eyes for a moment before looking at her.  
   
Jo stared into his eyes and nodded slowly. “That’s better.”  
   
“What is?” he asked, obviously still a little confused.  
   
“Feel like I’m talking to a real person now,” she told him.  
   
He grinned a little wryly. “You do realize I wear the contacts because I have bad eyesight, and not just because of the color.”  
   
Jo nodded. “But I like you better like this.”  
   
Bryce’s grin fell as she spoke, realizing that she was serious, and without thinking, he pulled her into a slow kiss, wrapping his arms around her tightly.  
   
Jo flailed for a moment, before her hands found purchase on his shoulders and she slid even closer to him, a leg hooking over his. She deepened the kiss, one hand sliding into his hair.  
   
He pulled away a moment later, breathing hard and looking around them.  
   
Jo’s hand was still in his hair, and she stared at him, her eyes wide and dark. “What? What’s wrong?”  
   
“Just waiting for someone to interrupt us,” Bryce said breathlessly. He grinned at her. “But I think we’re good.”  
   
She grinned back and tugged on his shirt, pulling him back into the kiss.

***** 

Bryce woke up before the sun had risen and blinked sleepily, looking around Jo’s bedroom. Their clothes littered the floor, along with the thick comforter that had been kicked off the night before.

Jo slept deeply next to him, the sheet pulled over her, an arm thrown over her eyes, and he grinned a little as she snored softly.

Every other girl he’d been with, every other girl who had bothered to actually spend the night with him, had slept like the dead. No noise, no movement. Not Jo. Jo’s chest rose and fell steadily, along with those cute little snores.

Bryce slid closer to her, sliding his arms around her. “Jo.”

“Hm.”

“Jo, wake up.”

“We getting’ shot at?” she asked, her voice still thick with sleep.

“No.”

“There a vampire?” she asked.

He smirked. “No.”

“Werewolf? Terrorist? Serial killer?”

“No, no, and no,” Bryce said, nuzzling against her neck.

“Then why the hell’re you wakin’ me up?”

He pressed against her, his lips against her jaw. “Three guesses.”

“Work, work, work,” Jo muttered, pulling him up to kiss him.

“Oh, is that what this is?” Bryce asked against her lips. “And I guess getting taken hostage by crazy ex-agents is what you do for fun?”

Jo pulled him closer, running her hands down his back. “All the time. Latest craze.”

“Uh-huh.” He kissed her shoulder softly, and then groaned when he heard his phone buzz.

“Ain’t even six am,” Jo moaned. “Who the hell is that?”

Bryce hesitantly pulled away from her and leaned over the edge of the bed to reach for the cell phone sitting in his discarded jeans. “Larkin.”

“That’s how you answer your phone?”

Bryce closed his eyes and flopped back on the bed. “Morning, Mother.”

“Did you get your tuxedo pressed?” Emily asked.

“Mother, it’s not even six,” Bryce said.

“You are getting married this evening,” Emily snapped. “There’s still a lot to do. You should be out of bed. Did you get it pressed?”

“Chuck took care of it.”

“Has Jo tried on her dress since last week?” Emily asked.

Bryce glanced at Jo, quirking an eyebrow at her as he watched her lean in and kisses his chest softly. “Angel, have you tried your dress on recently?”

“Since when am I an angel?” Jo asked softly, raising her own eyebrows back at him.

“What is Jo doing there with you?” Emily asked, her voice going cold.

Bryce blinked and shifted away from Jo, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Uh…”

“Oh god. You actually slept with her?”

“Mother-“

“I suppose it’s better than sleeping with that ghoulish redhead again.”

Bryce frowned. “Ghoulish redhead?”

“That Carina woman!”

“Oh. Carina. Right. Who told you I slept with Carina?”  

“Carina,” Jo muttered. “Who else?”

Bryce glanced back at her, and then turned back to the phone. “Mother-“

“Your father and I will be at your house at nine sharp,” Emily said brusquely. “Be showered and dressed, with your wedding wear ready to travel, and tell Jo I’ve hired someone to do her hair and make-up.”

He took a breath and closed his eyes as he felt Jo’s hands rest on his shoulders, and her lips press against the back of his neck comfortingly. “I will, Mother.”

 “See you at nine. Remember.”

“We will. Bye.”

Emily hung up and Bryce took another deep breath as he tossed the phone away. “Sorry.”

“Ain’t your fault,” Jo said softly. “Just the way things are. Pretty sure if my parents were here, they’d be kickin’ in the door, shotguns at the ready.”

Bryce grinned and glanced back at her. “I feel like I’d handle that better.”

Jo laughed. “Runnin’ around stark-assed naked, Bill and Ellen Harvelle stalkin’ after you for sleepin’ with their daughter.”

“Hiding behind the Dupont Circle fountain until the cops found me and booked me for indecent exposure.”

“And on our wedding day,” Jo admonished playfully. “Shame on you.”

He turned fully around and slid back down on the bed, pulling her with him. “They’ll be here at nine.”

“Nearly six now,” Jo said, leaning in close to him. “We got three hours.”

“That’s a long time,” Bryce muttered against her lips.

They kissed slowly, until Jo pulled away.

“Angel?”

Bryce shrugged. “Seems right. You don’t like it?”

“Never thought about it,” Jo admitted. “Most angels I met ain’t nothin’ to write home about.”

He grinned and pulled her closer. “Consider yourself the exception that proves the rule.”

*****

“Honestly Bryce, I said nine!” Emily cried as she watched her son dash down the stairs, tugging a t-shirt on. He’d obviously just showered, and he wasn’t wearing any shoes.

“It’s quarter to nine,” Bryce pointed out. “Which means I have fifteen minutes.”

“Mornin,” Jo said from the kitchen. She was showered and dressed in a pair of jeans and a button-down black shirt. “Anybody want coffee?”

“I would love some,” Richard said, stepping further into the house and following   
Jo into the kitchen. “You know, we haven’t had much time to talk.”

“I guess not,” Jo agreed, pouring him a cup of coffee. “Cream? Sugar?”

“Just a little sugar, please,” Richard replied, watching her move around.

Jo nodded and doctored his coffee quietly.

“So, Joanna.”

“Jo.”

“Yes. Jo. You’re from…?”

“Nebraska,” Jo told him. “Just outside Broken Bow.”

Richard nodded slowly. “That’s very…”

Jo quirked an unimpressed eyebrow at him.

“Nice. Very nice. Are you ready for today?”

“As I’ll ever be, I guess,” Jo replied.

Richard sipped his coffee. “Emily says your dress is very nice.”

“For something that looks a little like a cupcake, it ain’t bad,” Jo grinned, taking a large slug of her own coffee. “Honey, shake a leg!”

“Where are my shoes?!”

“CIA trusts you to take down crazy terrorists and get crap done, and you can’t even find your shoes?” Jo smirked.

“Don’t you judge me, Agent Harvelle!” Bryce cried. “I have a 92% success rate!”

“When you can find your shoes!”

“For goodness sake,” Emily muttered. “Can we please get going? We are going to be late.”

“Ceremony ain’t til five,” Jo pointed out.

“But before that, there’s brunch with the wedding party, and then we have to check the flowers and the seating for the ceremony, and Jo has to get her hair and make-up done, and then we have to get her into her dress, and we have to get the bridesmaids ready, and-“

“And we have a meeting with Beckman before all this goes, down,” Bryce said, hopping into his shoes.

“You don’t have time for that,” Emily admonished, her voice whiny.

“Good, then you can explain to my boss why she’s being left out of her own operation,” Bryce muttered. “That’ll go over well.”  
   
*****   
They were late to the meeting with Beckman. of course, because brunch had run long, and traffic was bad, even though the Lafayette was not that far from the Carnegie Library. 

"Honestly," Beckman snapped as Bryce, Chuck, Jo, Sarah and Casey rushed up to meet her. 

"Sorry, General," Bryce said. "My mother insisted on brunch." 

"That wasn't brunch," Jo commented grumpily. "That was seven berries and half a mimosa. I can't believe your mother wouldn't let me order any food." 

Bryce gave her a sympathetic look. "I tried to sneak you some of the corn beef hash, but she caught me." 

"If you are done bemoaning your breakfast?" Beckman interupted. 

"Yes, General," Jo nodded, straightening up and clasping her hands behind her back. 

"Thank you," she nodded. "We have agents posted at each entrance. At this point Quinn will be working alone." 

"What if he's a no-show?" Chuck asked. 

"He won't be," Casey said. "At this point he's working alone. He's gonna be desperate." 

"He was desperate already," Sarah pointed out. "Casey's right. He'll show." 

"Be on the lookout at all times," Beckman told them. "Hopefully we'll have him in custody before Agents Larkin and Harvelle have to say 'I do.'" 

"Is your meeting quite finished?" Emily asked from the other end of the front entrance. "We have a lot of work to do." 

Beckman raised an eyebrow and turned to Bryce. "This is your mother." 

Bryce nodded slowly, closing his eyes. "Yes, General." 

Chuck looked from Emily to the General and then turned to Sarah, the look on his face clearly freaking out over their similarities. 

Sarah tried not to grin as she nudged him. "Come on. Let's get going." 

"Good luck, Team," Beckman told them. She stopped them for a moment. "Agent Larkin, Agent Harvelle." She pulled out a document and a pen. "I'll need your signitures before you go." 

"For what?" Bryce asked, frowning. 

"The marriage license," Beckman told them. 

Jo's eyes widened. "Uh..." 

"We need to make this look as real as possible," Beckman said. "Especially if things go south today." 

Bryce took a deep breath and took the pen. "In for a penny..."


	16. Chapter 16

Jo looked in the mirror at herself as the stylist finished her hair and make-up. The NSA had thrown her into a course on doing her hair and make-up on her own when she'd first started, but the truth was that her mother had taught her long before the government had gotten their hands on her.

This, however, was on a whole other level. 

Her hair was naturally just a little wavy, and the stylist, Margaret, had played on that, transforming the waves into chunky, side-swept curls, loosely pinned on the side. Jo's make-up was light and airy, her lips a muted but pretty shade of pink, her eyelids dusted with a slightly sparkly pale blue eyeshadow. 

"Okay," Dean said jokingly from behind her. "So. She's a girl." 

"Funny," Sarah said sardonically. 

"Aw, come on," Dean said. "I'm just teasing. She looks good. For a sister." 

Jo huffed out a laugh. "I may look pretty, but I can still beat you up." 

"No fighting before the wedding," Emily ordered as she rushed around, inspecting Sarah in her dresses. "Jo, do you have your something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue?" 

Jo frowned. "Uh..." 

"The eyeshadow is a little bit blue," Margaret the stylist pointed out. 

"The dress is new," Jo said. 

Dean tugged up his dress shirt sleeve a little, revealing a bracelet of skulls in different shades of wood. "Something old." He took it off and handed it over to Jo. 

"Good god," Emily said, disgusted. "What is that?" 

"Tibetan skull bracelet," Dean said. "Got it from a Buddhist in Alabama when I was twelve. Good for contemplating life and death." 

"It's hideous," Emily complained. 

Jo put it on, wrapping it around her wrist twice. "Thanks, Dean." 

Sarah grinned at them and then hiked up her skirt, causing Dean to wrinkle his nose. 

"What the hell, Sare?" 

Sarah unhooked the holster that held her knives and then handed it to Jo. "Something borrowed. I want that back." 

Jo smirked and shifted her leg up to put it on. "Thanks, Sis." 

Emily shook her head as she watched them. "This wedding is going to be a disaster." 

***** 

Bryce paced back and forth, as Chuck watched him carefully.

“You okay there, buddy?”

“Yep,” Bryce nodded. “Yeah. I’m good.”  
   
“You’re lookin’ a little green,” Chuck told him worriedly.  
   
“Like pea soup,” Morgan commented from the first row of the gathered, mostly empty chairs.  
   
Chuck gave Morgan a pained look. “Really? Pea soup? You’re trying to make him throw up.”  
   
“A little,” Morgan admitted. “I would love to see that man projectile vomit, I feel like it would be good for my heart.”  
   
“But not your karma,” Chuck frowned. He turned back to Bryce. “This’ll be over in less than an hour, and then…”  
   
“And then what?” Bryce asked, looking stressed. “Everything goes back to normal? I go back to…to how things were?”  
   
Chuck gazed at him sadly. “Not if you don’t want them to.”  
   
“Ugh,” Morgan groaned. “Now I’m gonna puke. Chuck, why are you consoling this douche?”  
   
Chuck rolled his eyes. “Morgan, can you please just give us a minute?”  
   
Morgan rolled his eyes and got to his feet. “Fine.”  
   
Chuck watched the shorter man leave and then turned back to Bryce. “Look, the last week or so, hanging out with you, seeing you be you, instead of the know-it-all die-hard spy has been so awesome.”  
   
Bryce felt himself go a little red and he scratched the back of his head. “It has been kinda great.”  
   
“Kinda?” Chuck grinned widely. “I missed you. The real you. And I don’t know what it is about Jo, but she somehow pulled that guy out of Spy!Bryce, and I’m really grateful to her for it. Because I get my friend back, and you…you get your life back.”  
   
Bryce nodded slowly, thinking that over. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been me, you know. I don’t know if I’m good at it anymore.”  
   
Chuck laughed softly and hugged him briefly. “After this is all over, we’ll pop Mario Kart into the Wii and we’ll find out.”  
   
Bryce laughed a little and hugged him back.  
   
“Hey,” Casey snapped as he poked his head into the room. “Scram, you two. We’re gonna start filling the room.”  
   
Chuck nodded and patted Bryce’s shoulder. “Come on. Let’s go let Morgan abuse you a little more.”  
   
*****

Jo paced back and forth, the train of her fluffy white dress trailing behind her.

“Oh, I wouldn’t bite your fingernails if I were you,” Casey told her gently. “Larkin’s mother’s got a radar for that kinda thing.”

Jo sighed and threw up her hands, still pacing.

Casey just watched.

“I know this ain’t real,” Jo said. “I know. So why am I so nervous?”

“Cause you fell for Larkin when I told you not to,” Casey answered. “And as not-real as all this is, it looks and feels pretty real.”

Jo stopped pacing and stared at him, opening her mouth to answer.

“I’m not mad, if that’s what you’re gonna ask,” Casey said. “Just proven right. Hell, if the pretty boy spook makes you happy, and you’re willing to take the risk, who am I to judge?”

Jo grinned a little and fidgeted with her hands.

“Although,” Casey went on. “If Larkin hurts you, I’ll put another bullet in him.”

“You’d have to get in line behind me, Bobby, Sare and Dean.”

Casey grunted. “I can be patient.”

Jo laughed a little and took a deep breath as the music in the next room over started up. “Okay. Let’s get this done.”

Casey nodded and stepped up next to her, offering her his arm. “You look good, by the way. For a woman wearing a giant comforter.”

“Keep talkin,” Jo muttered. “I’ll walk down the aisle with just your severed hand to   
give me away.”

Casey just chuckled.

*****

“You don’t think he’s gonna burst out into the Princess Bride version of a wedding ceremony, do you?” Bryce whispered quietly as he stood next to Jo, holding her hand tightly.

His hand was clammy and moist, while hers was dry and very, very cold.

“If he does, I may shoot him,” Jo muttered, squeezing his hand.

“…Today, to join Bryce Richard and Joanna Beth in the bonds of holy matrimony. If there is anyone present who has reason that these two should not wed today, speak now, or forever hold your peace.”

Silence fell over the ceremony, and Jo glanced behind her at gathered crowd. It was small, mostly filled with agents, all dressed up. In the front row were Emily,  
Richard, Casey and Bobby, and behind them were Dean and Miranda, and Morgan and Carina. Jo glanced to her side at Sarah, whose eyes were mostly on the rest of the room instead of Jo and Bryce.

“The rings, please,” the justice said, turning to Chuck, who, in typical Chuck fashion, fumbled the rings before stepping forward with them.

Bryce grinned a little at him, and Chuck grinned back sheepishly.

He found himself repeating after the Justice of the Peace; things about sickness and health and only death parting them, which should have scared Bryce more than it actually did.

Jo repeated the same words, and was surprisingly careful with putting the ring on his finger.

“By the power vested in my by the District of Columbia, I now pronounce you-“

A gunshot rang out in the hall before the Justice could finish the sentence, and shouts followed. Jo’s instincts kicked in immediately and she shoved Bryce out of the way, while grabbing the gun that was settled into the back of his trousers.

The bullet from Quinn’s gun clipped her in the shoulder as she whirled back around, and she stumbled back into the Justice as she let off her own shot. She could tell from the loud yelp from the other end of the hall that she’d made contact, but she couldn’t tell where she’d hit him.

“Jo!” Bryce cried, getting to his feet as Jo went down. “Jo?”

“I’m good,” Jo told him, handing him the gun back.

He nodded and looked out over the dispersed agents. Some were herding the civilians out of the hall, while others were securing the building.

“We’ve covered every exit,” Chuck said hurriedly. “But this place is so big, it’s gonna take time to find him.”

Bryce swallowed before turning to Chuck and Sarah. “Cover the south end of the building. Quinn wants me, so chances are he’s gonna try and lure me in. Make sure my parents and my sister are safe.”

“Dean and Carina have that covered,” Sarah said. “They won’t let anything happen to the civilians.”

Bryce nodded and glanced back down at Jo.

“Go get him, Honey,” she said, grinning a little as blood dripped down from the shoulder wound and onto her dress. “I’m fine.”

He leaned in and kissed her quickly before dashing off back up the aisle, and out of the hall, looking around the main entrance. “Come on out, Quinn! There’s nowhere to go!”

A bullet ricocheted off the marble column closest to him, and Bryce hid behind it, before peaking out, gun at the ready. He spotted Quinn on the stairs above him, gun aimed steadily.

“This can only end badly, Quinn,” Bryce called. “Surrender, and maybe I’ll go easy on you.”

Quinn laughed then. It was an eerie, empty laugh that echoed through the building. “You think I give a damn how this ends for me, Larkin?”

Bryce stayed silent for a moment, thinking about that. “No. You don’t. You don’t care at all what happens to you, do you? You just want me dead, and if you wind up going with me, well, at least you’ve gotten your revenge.”

“I might be a little guilty of that, yes,” Quinn called out. “But be honest, Larkin. You didn’t really think I wouldn’t catch up to you, did you? That I wouldn’t come after you?”

“No, I knew,” Bryce said. He peaked out from behind the column and spotted Sarah coming up from behind Quinn. “I just thought you were smarter than all this.”

“Smarter than what?” Quin asked. “Smarter than to let Agent Walker get the drop on me?” He hurled his elbow back, catching Sarah in the nose.

She grunted and stumbled back, firing her gun and catching Quinn in the foot.

Bryce dashed out from behind the column and up the stairs quickly, chasing after Quinn as he hobbled away. Bryce started to slow as he got to Sarah.

“What are you doing?!” She snapped, holding her nose. “I’m fine! Get him!”

He sped up again, following Quinn into the reception space.

Chuck dashed in behind him and looked around. “What is it with you and me and weddings? I swear, if someone tries to kill me at my wedding, I’m gonna lose my mind.”

Bryce shushed him gently and readied his gun, stepping carefully. “Jo’s okay?”

“She says she’s had worse,” Chuck replied quietly, pulling out his tranq gun. “And then she muttered something about needing some dental floss and a pen knife.”

“I have strange taste in women,” Bryce muttered.

“If it makes you feel better, she’s the one dating the man addicted to Red Vines and the Secret of Mana.”

“That game is quality,” Bryce hissed.

“You two act like children,” Quinn snapped from somewhere across the room. “Little boys playing spy.”

“Better immature than insane,” Bryce called. “It’s two against one, Quinn. You’re done for.”

“You keep saying that,” Quinn told him. “That I’m done for. That I should give in. You know I won’t. You boys will have to kill me, and we both know how Agent Bartowski feels about that.”

“The man elbowed my fiancé in the face,” Chuck muttered. “If you accidentally, maybe killed him, I’m not sure how much I’d mind.”

Bryce gave him a look before creeping slowly out into the open. “Cover me.”

Chuck nodded and stayed behind him, tranq gun at the ready.

“There’s no version of this where you come out on top,” Bryce called out, scanning the room. The trees that served as the centerpiece for each table made it hard to spot Quinn, but Bryce could hear him shuffling around. The man had been shot twice, and moving was probably getting more difficult by the minute.

“Dead or alive, I’m taking you in,” Bryce said, moving through the tables.

Silence filled the room for a long moment before Quinn’s gun fired past Bryce, and Chuck yelped.

Bryce turned quickly. “Chuck?!”  
   
“J-just a graze!” Chuck replied. He was on the floor, against one of the marble columns, a shaky hand to the side of his head. “I’m…I’m okay!”  
   
Bryce turned back around when he heard Quinn’s revolver click over. He glared and kept moving.

"This is cowardly even for you," Bryce called. "Show yourself." 

"If you insist," Quinn chuckled, and his hand reached out from under one of the tables and grabbed Bryce’ ankle. He hit the floor hard and fast with a grunt, and in no time was being held down by Quinn, a beefy hand clenching around his throat. 

"There's no way I can win?" Quinn grated out. "I always win, Larkin. I will always win."

"Bryce!" Chuck cried, struggling to his feet. "Bryce!" 

Bryce, for his part, squirmed for a few moments under Quinn's weight, before his eyes rolled back, and he went limp. 

"No!" Chuck yelled, finally dashing over, a hand still pressing down on his grazed temple. 

Quinn chuckled as he got to his feet, smiling maniacally at Chuck. "It's time to truly end this," He raised his gun. "Say your prayers, Bartowski." 

Chuck glowered, and flashed, and was about to strike, but he stopped, eyes wide. 

"What? Why aren't you moving?" Quinn asked. "Have you accepted your fate?" 

Chuck tilted his head from one side to the other. "Not...not really. Y'know, no. But uh...I think maybe you should turn around."

"You honestly think I'm going to fall for that?" Quinn laughed. "You must think me mad." 

Chuck shrugged. "Well, you are pretty crazy. But there is a very proficient spy standing behind you, ready to beat you in the head with a centerpiece. Just...FYI." 

Quinn laughed again and turned around, just in time for Bryce to kick the gun from his hand and smack him in the face with the trunk end of one of the trees from the centerpieces. 

Quinn grunted and stumbled, but didn't have enough time to recover before Bryce hit him three more times.

He went down hard, and Bryce sighed, dropping the tree and kicking the man in the face. 

"Seriously?" 

"What?" Bryce asked, "I was just making sure."

"I was only partially talking about that," Chuck said. "I was more commenting on the fact that you died and came back for like the billionth time." 

"I was faking," Bryce told him, as he cuffed Quinn. "It was the only way to get him off me." 

"You're like a zombie," Chuck complained. He pulled out his phone, still shaking his head. "Hi, General. We've got Quinn in the reception space. He's down, and everybody lived. Mostly." 

Bryce rolled his eyes. "Shut up." 

*****

"Good work, agents," Beckman said. 

Everyone had moved to the reception space, and agents had taken Quinn away. Medical staff were treating Chuck's and Jo's wounds, while Sarah held some ice from the bar up to her face, and Bryce batted away a medic who was trying to check him for injuries. 

"Nicholas Quinn is in custody, ready to be moved to a secure facility." 

"Forever, I hope," Chuck said, flinching a little and holding Sarah's free hand as he was stitched up. 

"That's the plan," Beckman said. "The five of you showed tremendous skill pulling this off. I think you've all earned a little leave." 

"That's very generous," Casey nodded. "Thank you, General." 

"Please, you wouldn't last a day on leave," Bryce said. 

Casey grunted menacingly. 

"Ah, knock it off," Jo told them. "I been shot, I don't wanna listen to the two of you fight." 

Sarah grinned a little. "Well, this gives Chuck and I a chance to start planning our real wedding." 

Chuck smiled at her. "Sounds good to me." 

"Speaking of," Beckman said. She took a clipboard from one of her agents and held it out to Bryce and Jo. "Your annulment paperwork. All you have to do is sign." 

Neither spoke for a long moment. They both frowned a little, Bryce taking the clipboard and Jo reading over his shoulder. 

"Y'know..." Bryce pondered.

Jo bit her lip. "Maybe..." 

Beckman quirked an eyebrow at them. "Agents." 

"I'm not really in a hurry to get divorced," Bryce said, turning to Jo. "I mean I know we just sorta started this...thing. But what do you say?" 

"You're just tryin'a stay married for my fried chicken," Jo teased him. 

He grinned. "Among other things." 

She sighed. "Why the hell not? Horse before the carriage." 

"I am not a horse," Bryce told her. "I don't even look like a horse." 

Beckman rolled her eyes and took the paperwork back. "I'll keep this handy, just in case." 

"You'll have to give those rings back," Casey told them. "Those things were payed for with taxpayer dollars." 

"They're kinda ugly anyways," Bryce replied, slipping his off and handing it over to Casey as Jo did the same. 

"When do we gotta be outta the rowhouse?" she asked Beckman. 

"Considering, we're putting you all on leave, I'm sure we can work something out for you to stay there," Beckman told her. "For now." 

"Or we could get a hotel room for our wedding night," Bryce grinned at her. 

"Ugh," Casey and Sarah both said, obviously disgusted.

Jo laughed and shoved at Bryce's face playfully. 

*****   
“I cannot believe you’re just going to stay married,” Emily groused as Richard watched the driver load their bags into the trunk of the town car they’d hired to take them to the train station. “We didn’t even get to have the reception!”  
   
“No, but the ceremony was very nice,” Bryce said.  
   
“The bride was shot,” Richard pointed out.  
   
Bryce nodded. “Up to that point, the ceremony was very nice.”  
   
“At least let me throw you a party or some sort of shower,” Emily said.  
   
“Nah, we’re good,” Bryce grinned. He kissed her cheek. “Call me when you get in, okay? Thanks for everything.”  
   
Emily sighed heavily. “Yes, well…it was nice to see you.”  
   
Lorelai wrapped an arm around him then and kissed his cheek. “Take care newlywed.”  
   
Bryce laughed a little. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”  
   
“I can,” Lorelai said. “It’s something I would do.”  
   
He rolled his eyes and wrapped his arms around her. “Take care, okay?”  
   
“You too, Kiddo,” Lorelai said, hugging him back. “Don’t be too much of a stranger, huh? Call. Write. Send pastry.”  
   
Bryce laughed.  
   
A little ways down the street, Sarah, Chuck and Jo were watching Dean and Miranda load up the Impala, while Bobby threw his bag into the bed of his pick-up.   
   
“Drive safe,” Sarah told them, as she hugged Dean. “Are you guys going straight home?”  
   
“We may stop off somewhere on the way,” Miranda said, grinning shyly at Dean as she hugged Chuck goodbye.  
   
He patted her back. “Have a good roadtrip.”  
   
Jo waved at them with her good arm, the arm of the shoulder she’d been shot in would be in a sling for a while.  
   
Dean walked over and kissed her forehead. “I think you’re nuts for stayin married to the pretty boy, by the way.”  
   
“Well, I never claimed sanity,” Jo told him with a grin. “Take  care, okay?”  
   
He nodded. “You, too. Don’t get shot again, huh?”  
   
“Yeah, yeah,” Jo smirked.  
   
Bobby hugged Sarah tightly. “Lemme know when the wedding is, huh?”  
   
Sarah nodded as she hugged him back. “Promise.” She grinned at him. “Think you’ll ever make it to New York for a visit?”  
   
“Never know,” Bobby told her. “Better’n California, that’s for sure.” He turned to Jo and hugged her carefully. “I’m with Dean. No more getting’ shot.”  
   
“Okay,” Jo said, hugging him with her good arm. “I’ll do my best.”  
   
“Uh-huh,” Bobby replied sardonically. “And keep an eye on that boy of yours.”  
   
“You mean my new husband?” Jo asked, quirking an eyebrow. “Got it covered.”  
   
“I bet you do,” Dean teased.  
   
“And on that note,” Miranda said, tugging on Dean’s arm gently. “We should hit the road, yeah?”  
   
“Later, sisters!” Dean said as he hopped into the driver’s seat. “And Chuck and Bobby.”  
   
Miranda waved and grinned. “Bye.”

Bobby waved back, and watched Miranda get into the Impala before Dean turned the engine and they drove off. He turned to Chuck, Sarah and Jo. “My turn to get goin. Take care, huh?”  
   
Jo and Sarah both nodded and Chuck waved to him.

“Safe travels, Bobby.”  
   
They watched him climb into his truck and drive off, before Sarah turned to Jo.  
   
“We’re gonna head back to the hotel,” she said, rubbing Jo’s good arm. “We’re due back in New York tomorrow morning.”  
   
Jo nodded. “It was real good seein’ you, Sare,” Jo said. “We should make this a regular thing.”  
   
Sarah smirked. “Well, I am getting married sometime within the next year and a half.”  
   
“Sooner,” Chuck stage-whispered, earning him quirked eyebrow from his fiance.  
   
Sarah huffed and shook her head before taking his hand. “I’ll call you when we’re back in New York.”  
   
Jo nodded and waved to them as they walked down the street together. She glanced behind her as Bryce stepped up.  
   
“Looks like it’s just us now,” he said.  
   
She nodded and wrapped her fingers around his as they walked back toward the rowhouse. “What do you wanna do today?”  
   
Bryce shrugged. “You like video games?”  
   
“Ain’t ever played.”  
   
“What?!” he cried, stopping and staring at her.  
   
Jo blinked at him.  
   
“I want a divorce,” Bryce told her earnestly.  
   
They stared at each other for a long moment, before she snorted and laughed.    
   
“Okay,” Bryce said. “Okay, okay. Here’s the deal. I’m gonna hit the CVS on the circle, grab Red Vines and a metric ton of Mountain Dew, and then I’ll be back and I’ll set you up with a new game of Arkham City.”  
   
“What City?”  
   
He grinned and pecked her lips. “You’ll see.”  
   
“Don’t you bring back that much Mountain Dew,” she told him as she watched him head down the street. “You’ll never get any sleep.”  
   
“Which wouldn’t be such a bad thing, all things considered,” he grinned. “I intend to keep you up all night anyways.”  
   
Jo rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Get your damn candy, Larkin.”  
   
“Sure thing, Mrs. Larkin,” he teased her. “Favorite candy?”  
   
“I don’t like candy,” she told him. “I like rainbow sherbet.”  
   
Bryce smiled. “You got it.”  
   
He dashed off and Jo had to smile to herself before heading back into the rowhouse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who read this. I hope you enjoyed!!


End file.
